


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Potato19 (ForForever19)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Christmas, F/M, Harry Needs a Hug, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 73,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever19/pseuds/Potato19
Summary: Hermione's innocent suggestion of running a Secret Santa with Dumbledore's Army leads to the ultimate search for the perfect presents, an unexpected change in holiday plans, late-night mistletoe-kisses and revelations of profound feelings.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**I**

His hands were shaking from the cold.

Harry Potter stared down at his gloved fingers before he tucked his hands under his armpits to warm them up. He knew he was being stubborn, but he just couldn't bring himself to go back into the Castle. Staying outside was a form of defiance towards the powers that be, and he was determined to see it through until it was absolutely necessary for him to seek warmth.

"You're going to give yourself a cold, Potter."

Harry looked up from his position perched on a large rock overlooking the Black Lake, to see his best friend approaching him cautiously. Hermione Granger was all bundled up for the cold, looking rather adorable in her Gryffindor beanie and matching scarf. She was careful with where she placed her feet. The last thing she wanted to do was slip and end up in a pit of snow.

"Scoot over," she instructed him once she was near enough, and he happily shifted, making room for her. Because of the height of the rock, she had to jump up to take her place beside him and she almost slipped off, so she was forced to grab onto his arm to steady herself. "Oh my God, Harry," she suddenly exclaimed, squeezing his arm tight. "Isn't your bottom frozen?"

Despite his earlier foul mood, Harry let out a laugh. "I think that it's actually gone numb," he informed her.

Hermione did not let go of his arm, rather choosing to hug it to her chest, as if they could transfer precious warmth between them. Harry ended up resting his hand on her lower thigh, and he had to resist the urge to tuck it between her legs for the warmth. That would just be... too far.

"Well, I'm starting to think that coming out here was a better idea until I actually did it," she muttered, just managing to stop her teeth from chattering.

"Didn't anyone tell you that it's cold outside?" he asked, risking a smile.

"My best friend could have told me," she said; "but he was nowhere to be found." She waited, knowing full well that he wouldn't comment. "What are you doing out here, Harry?" she eventually asked. "It's freezing!"

Harry chuckled. "It's not that bad," he said, absently squeezing her lower thigh. "It's not even snowing."

Hermione stared down at where his hand was on her leg, feeling self-conscious of the way she was gripping his arm for the first time. Her sudden panic must have showed on her face because he softly blew on her cheek to get her attention.

"Hey," he said, his eyes shining with mirth. "What's up?"

She took a deep breath. "How long have you been sitting out here?"

He dropped his gaze. "Not long," he mumbled, and they both knew it was a blatant lie. He cleared his throat. "Is life always going to be this unfair, Hermione?" he asked quietly, his breath fogging up as he spoke. "I mean, I've accepted a lot that this world has thrown my way, but - " he stopped and sucked in a sharp, cold breath.

Hermione was too cold to brave actually hugging him properly, so she just tightened her hold on his arm. She didn't know how else to comfort him, or to let him know that she understood without actually voicing whatever he was determined not to _say out loud_.

"When is enough going to be enough?" he asked softly, almost whispering.

Hermione couldn't see the back of his left hand because of his glove but she knew what was there, and she absolutely hated it. It made her blood boil with just how much she hated that ridiculous excuse for a... human being. Hermione had long since lost her undying faith in their professors. How could they knowingly allow that woman to continue to teach when - Hermione sighed. There was no use getting worked up over something she couldn't control.

Her Harry was hurting, and that did not sit well with her.

Hermione had no answers for him, and the encouraging words she _wanted_ to say sounded flat in her own head, so she didn't bother with them. Instead, she decided to distract him. "Sirius wrote to me," she said, knowing that would pique his interest.

Harry brightened instantly, the mention of his godfather too tempting. "Really? What about?" he asked. Then he paused; "Umm, if you don't mind my asking, that is," he added nervously.

She smiled warmly at him. "He asked me about you, and what you liked," she told him. "He wants to get you the perfect Christmas present, but he doesn't really _know_ you well enough yet, so he asked me to tell him all about the wizard who risked his life to save him."

"A wizard who couldn't have done any of it without a certain witch," Harry said candidly, his earlier mood temporarily forgotten.

Hermione blushed, and was suddenly thankful for the cold. It could be the excuse for her red cheeks.

"So, what did you tell him?" Harry found himself asking, suddenly very interested in what Hermione could have told his godfather. "I hope nothing bad."

_As if there was anything bad to tell_ , Hermione thought, and then checked back on her realism. Harry was a human being, flaws and all, and yet he was still perfect. Wow, she was in deep trouble.

"Hermione," Harry prompted, looking amused at how distracted she suddenly was. "What did you tell him?"

She let out a breath, giggling quietly. "Well, I told him that you like treacle tart and sugar quills," she explained. "You love flying, and you love your friends and would do anything to protect them and keep them safe. I told him that you're true, and you're strong, and that I've never been ashamed to be your friend, or any prouder of you than right now."

Harry blinked.

"I also told him that he's missed so much, and that he's going to have to make it up to you somehow."

His eyes widened. "Hermione!"

She didn't shy away from his outburst. "It's the truth, Harry, and he agreed with me."

"He did?"

"Of course he did," she said easily. "He cares about you a lot, and he's excited to be able to spend this coming Christmas with you, even if it'll be behind closed doors. I don't know why but I'm convinced this is going to be a great Christmas, Harry."

"You sound so sure," he commented lightly, smiling at the distant look in her eyes.

Hermione gripped his forearm tightly. "I'm _willing_ it to happen," she told him timidly. "Don't laugh at me. You might jinx it."

"I won't laugh," he assured her. "I want this to be a great Christmas as well."

Hermione sighed and leaned into him a little more, surprised by her own boldness. It helped that he didn't seem to mind. "So, I actually did come out here for a reason other than to annoy you," she said, offering him a small smile.

"You're not annoying me," he said, glancing at her. "I like sitting here with you, despite the cold."

Hermione met his gaze, brown eyes locking on green. She didn't know if he could see the worry, confusion and happiness reflected in her eyes. Because she worried, sometimes, that the core of who she was as a person made it difficult for people to spend time with her. She'd spent years being the insufferable know-it-all, but now she was best friends with this wonderful boy who seemed to accept her, bookworm tendencies and all.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked, looking away from the heat of her gaze for a moment. He took a breath before he looked back at her, smiling at her flushed cheeks and slightly pink nose. Harry loved winter sometimes.

"I had this idea," she began, somewhat nervously; "about having a Secret Santa with the DA."

Harry blinked, taking it in, and then his face broke out in a wide grin. "That's a great idea!" he said, tugging on his arm and pulling her closer.

She looked a little taken aback by his enthusiasm. "Oh."

"Oh what?"

"I thought that I would have to explain what it was," she said, sounding embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

Harry nudged her gently with his shoulder. "I know I lived in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years, but I do know _some_ things, Hermione."

For a moment, she was convinced that she'd offended him, but then he started to laugh, and her heart rate slowly came back down to a rate that was just above normal. It would never reach _normal_ while in Harry's presence these days and it was definitely turning into a problem.

"But I do really think it's a good idea," he said, his laughter tapering off. "Or did you want to practice explaining it to me, you know, before you told the rest of the group?"

"Do you mind?"

Harry turned slightly, taking a bit of his arm back, so he could look at her properly. He was determined to give her his full attention. "Go on, Professor Granger; I'm listening."

She rolled her eyes, took a breath and then proceeded to explain her complete idea to him. Even as she spoke, she was fully aware of the fact that his eyes never drifted from her face. He was listening intently, and he was _hearing_ her. There were times in their friendship when she knew he wasn't paying attention, but this was not one of them. It was actually a little distracting, seeing as he was so close, but she pushed through her explanation until she was happy that she'd covered everything.

"So, what do you think?" she asked. "Do you think they'll go for it?"

Harry waited a beat, before he nodded. "We'll make sure to tell them that it doesn't have to be anything big or expensive," he said. "Just, well, umm, it has to be thoughtful, and not everyone has to participate if they don't want to. But I think it'll be fun."

"We need some fun," she agreed, absently referring to the residual anger that seemed to be permanently inhabiting her best friend. She just wanted to see him happy; wanted to hear his laugh and see that lopsided grin that always managed to make her breath catch. "Everything is always so serious around here, and I get that that's the way that our lives are right now, but I think we need this. Something light, festive, and happy."

"You don't have to convince me, Hermione."

"Maybe I'm trying to convince myself," she said in a whisper and it was amazing that he heard her at all.

Harry responded by squeezing her lower thigh again, less flustered by the idea now that his hand had been on her leg for quite some time. "We'll tell them in our next meeting."

"Which is tomorrow, Harry."

"I knew that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, what am I ever going to do with you?"

"Well, if you weren't holding my arm in your death grip, I think you'd probably be kissing the snow right now," he said with a grin that made her heart skip beats. Not even just _one;_ many.

Hermione automatically made to release his arm, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm teasing," he assured her. "I like it," he admitted shyly; "it's like you've claimed me."

Hermione just blinked, unsure how to respond. What could she even say to something like that? Did he know? Did he know what his words could do to a teenage girl? Even a girl who desperately held onto her composure around him like Hermione Granger?

Harry took a shaky breath. "Did you really come out here just to tell me about the Secret Santa idea?" he asked, eager to change the subject. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights but, the second he started talking again; she seemed to return to herself. What had he said?

"Partly," she confessed. "I also thought, maybe, umm, that you needed a friend," she said, her voice dropping in volume. "I wanted to distract you, maybe make you forget the heavy stuff for a little while."

He kept his eyes on her. "But it's freezing!"

Hermione's hold on his arm tightened. "I'm not so sure," she said, glancing down at his hand on her leg. "I'm feeling quite warm; how about you?"

Harry grinned at her. "If you catch a cold; you're not allowed to blame me," he said, unable to stop a small laugh from escaping from his lips. "Let it be known that Hermione Granger has made her own decision to remain at Harry Potter's side, despite the bitter cold."

_If he only knew_ , she thought. She would remain at his side, always. She would never go. "Aren't you the one who said that it wasn't that bad?" she asked. "Something about it not even snowing?"

As if on cue and, before Harry could even reply; it started to snow. It came slow at first, landing gently on their clothes and in Harry's hair. Harry couldn't get over how wonderful she looked with snow on her eyelashes, her pink face and a happy, carefree smile framing her perfect features. She looked young and happy and breathtaking.

"Amazing," she said lightly, looking up at the sky.

Harry also looked up, wanting to see what she was seeing. It _was_ amazing. He absently opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, the child in him wanting to catch the snow. With that in mind, he turned to look at Hermione, temporarily caught off guard by the shining in her eyes. "Say, Hermione?"

She didn't even look at him. "Hmm?"

"Is there some kind of spell that can, umm, catch a single snowflake?" he asked, suddenly embarrassed. Would she laugh at how absurd his question was?

Hermione closed her eyes, visibly thinking. She even started to hum to herself, which just made him watch her in awe. Yes. That's what it was. _Awe_. Eventually, she opened her eyes to look at him. "I'm sure there are _ways_ ," she said; "just no single spell, I don't think. I can find out, if you'd like."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," he said, smiling. "I was just curious, but thank you."

Hermione made a mental note anyway. She would do a bit of research about it, mainly because the question had to have some significance for Harry. He wouldn't have mentioned it if it didn't. It was something she learned early on. With Harry Potter, it was important to pay attention to the small things; the things he swept under the rug when he thought nobody was looking.

The next time Harry felt her shiver; he suggested that they go inside and get warmed up before dinner. Hermione was surprised by her own reluctance to leave their position. She knew it had very little to do with the _warmth_ of their position, but more to do with _Harry_ and their position.

"I promise you can still hold onto my arm once we're inside," he said teasingly. "I'm just afraid, you know, that I'll get frostbite and it'll end up falling off. Then what will you do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she released his arm and stretched her back out. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a drama queen?"

Harry watched her cat-like grace with wide eyes, somewhat transfixed by her movements. "Uh - " he sputtered.

Hermione threw him an amused look before she launched herself off the large rock, stumbling slightly as she landed. She turned to glare at him when he let out a small laugh at her expense. Her one hand moved to rest on her hip as she waited for him to join her.

Harry had a lot more poise as he slipped off the rock and landed steadily right beside her. He was grinning like a fool, enjoying the unimpressed look she was shooting him a little too much. Innocently, Harry thrust out his right arm for her, which made her smile. It was the kind of smile that pulled on his heartstrings, forcing him to open his eyes and take notice.

Hermione gratefully took hold of his arm and leaned into him, suddenly unafraid of their proximity. They were Harry and Hermione. This was what they did.

The walk back to the Castle was slow. Hermione almost slipped a few times and her grip on Harry was sometimes the only thing that kept her upright, though he made no comment on that until they were safely within the corridors, on their way to the Gryffindor Common Room. They didn't encounter any students on their way, so Hermione felt comfortable enough resting her head on his shoulder, her heart thumping in her chest. She hoped that he couldn't feel it.

Harry brought them to a stop just before they reached the Fat Lady, and moved to stand in front of Hermione. Gently, he dusted the snow off her shoulders, her scarf and hair he could reach.

She playfully swiped at his hands. "I can do it," she said proudly.

He just gave her a toothy grin.

Hermione returned his smile, while she dusted off the snow on _his_ coat. "I really do hope you don't catch a cold," she said absently. "Maybe we should have stopped by the Kitchens to get some hot soup or some tea."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You just want to spend more time with me, don't you?"

Hermione ran a hand through his hair, using the excuse of wiping snow from his already damp strands. She was blushing and, as soon as they entered the Common Room; she wouldn't have the cold as an excuse anymore. It was as if he _knew_ , and he was just doing it on purpose.

Harry didn't want to go inside just yet. "So, if I, umm, if I don't get you for this Secret Santa thing; does that mean I won't be able to buy you a present as well?"

"You don't have to," she said, smiling happily. "Really, Harry, I don't expect anything from you."

"But what if I want to?"

"Then I'm not going to stop you," she said, exaggerating a sigh.

Harry absently pulled her beanie down, as it had risen up to reveal her ears. Her very pink and adorable ears. "Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?"

"Does there actually have to be one specific thing?" he asked, meeting her gaze. "Can't it just be for everything?"

Hermione just looked at him, wondering what brought this all on.

"Or, better yet, thank you, for all that you are, and all that you're not," he said, stepping towards her. "Is that enough?"

Hermione blinked, and then nodded numbly, her voice failing her. She would never survive the rest of this year if it was going to go on like this. Something was going to have to give.

Harry looked like he was going to say something more, but the sound of students coming down the corridor stopped him, and he took an automatic step back from Hermione, as if he were suddenly realising how close to her he was standing. He laughed nervously, and rubbed the back of his neck with his still-gloved hand.

"We should go inside," she said, clearing her throat. "We could probably get started on Transfiguration before dinner."

Harry just smiled. "Lead the way, pretty girl," he said softly, and her eyes snapped towards him. "What?" he asked innocently.

"What did you just call me?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Harry sounded equally uneasy. "Uh - pretty girl?"

Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I would think it was rather self-explanatory," he said, smirking slightly. "And, I guess, I kind of want to have my own nickname for you," he admitted. "Do you hate it? I can come up with something else, if you'd like."

"No," she rushed. "You just surprised me."

"That's me," he said smugly. "I'm just full of surprises."

Hermione just shook her head as she turned and made her way towards the portrait hole. She wasted no time in saying the password to gain them entry, and then she was stepping through into the Common Room. Once they were in the warmth of the room, Hermione threw him a somewhat dreamy look, and then disappeared up the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.

Harry missed a step at the sight, drawing the attention of a few students; but he managed to laugh it off, as he made his way to his own room. None of his roommates were around, so he was able to retrieve his books in peace. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to explain where he'd disappeared to after classes. He wasn't even surprised that Hermione was the one to find him, or to come at all.

She really was a great friend.

The word gave Harry pause. _Friend_. It just seemed too insignificant to describe just what Hermione Granger was to him. Perhaps it came from the fact that they'd saved each other's lives before, but they needed a word that was somehow just _more_.

When Harry made it back to the Common Room, Hermione was already seated at what was now known as the Trio's table. When they weren't in the library, this was where they worked; Hermione acting as ringleader and Harry and Ron her reluctant circus acts.

Harry, admittedly, was more attentive whenever it did come down to schoolwork, though he wasn't nearly at the level of Hermione Granger. Nobody was. Not even some of the Ravenclaw students. Hermione Granger was one of a kind, and it sometimes bothered her when her fellow students couldn't _see_ the merit in being more like her when it came to their studies.

It took Harry pointing out that not everyone _could_ be like her, and that it wasn't fair to expect everyone to be, to calm her down when she worked herself up with thoughts about her House's relative incompetency. She'd get flustered and red in the face, and Harry thought her ranting was sometimes rather cute.

Hermione quickly got them both working, and only spared the redhead a disapproving look when Ron Weasley eventually joined them after he'd run amok throughout the Castle with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan.

Ron just shrugged as he settled in on Harry's left diagonal. Harry learned early on that it was wise - and sometimes potentially dangerous - for him to sit between them. He acted as a buffer more often than not, and today was no different. Ron started to slack earlier than Harry anticipated, and Hermione lost her patience quicker than usual.

They started to bicker and Harry wasn't able to get a word in edgewise. When they both stood up, they drew the attention of other students, who quickly shrugged it off as something they'd all seen before.

"Merlin, would you just stop nagging me?" Ron eventually shouted, his irritation getting the better of him.

Hermione huffed, her arms folding across her chest. Harry looked like he wanted to say something to defend her but she gave him a significant look that told him that she could handle this. Hermione squared up to Ron, reaching her full height and glaring at him. "You call it nagging," she said bitterly, her voice rising; "but I call it 'listen to me the first time, dickhead.'"

There was absolute silence in the Common Room for a good few seconds, before Ron gasped, and Harry burst out laughing. The raven-haired wizard even doubled over from his own laughter, and dropped down into his chair as he clutched at his stomach.

It took Hermione a moment more to realise that all eyes were on her, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction on most of the faces of their fellow students. Her cheeks flamed red, and she made a move to bolt from the room, but Harry's sudden hold on her wrist stopped her. He stood up again, his laughter still evident in his eyes.

"Stay," he said quietly enough for only her to hear. Then, louder, he said: "That was amazing, Hermione." He sounded so sincere. Then he turned to look at Ron, who was also quite red. "You deserved that, mate," he said, and that ended it all. The other students returned to what they were doing, and the Golden Trio gathered into an impromptu huddle.

Hermione was astutely aware that Harry had yet to let go of her wrist, his fingers pressed against her pulse point and forcing her breathing to remain erratic. Did he even realise what he was doing? Hermione reasoned that it would probably be worse if he actually did.

While the leaders of the DA stood together, Hermione explained to a still-red Ron that she had an announcement to make at the end of the next night's meeting, so they would probably have to cut the actual practical part short. When he asked why, Harry and Hermione merely exchanged a look, and then they both grinned at him.

"It's a surprise," they said at the same time, and then they both burst out laughing.

It merely confused Ron, and he suddenly couldn't help the worry that he felt. Or was it fear? Not because of the _surprise_ , but because of, well, Harry being Harry _with_ Hermione. Ron had been jealous of Harry plenty of times, but this was the first time that he'd truly acknowledged his jealousy of the kind of friendship Hermione honestly had with Harry. Somehow, Ron just knew that, if push came to shove; Harry would choose to trust Hermione before he chose to trust Ron, and that made him feel uneasy.

Harry's laughter tapered off, and he regarded his redheaded friend curiously. "Oh, don't worry, Ron," he said lightly. "It's a good surprise; I promise."

Ron noticed the lightness of his friend, and couldn't help being surprised that Hermione managed to have accomplished such a thing. Harry had been closed, guarded and bordering _dark_ at times this term, so this was different and pleasant. Ron stamped down on his own unnecessary emotions. How could be possibly be jealous of _that_?

"Now, please can we return to our essays?" Hermione asked - though it most definitely was not a question. She made a point of glaring at Ron, who silently returned to his seat.

Harry could only smile at the satisfied look on Hermione's face as he also sat back down. "Amazing," he whispered under his breath, picking up his quill and resuming his writing.

But Hermione heard him.

* * *

She had vivid dreams.

Hermione Granger didn't normally dream in black and white, but this night was different. Her dreams consisted of snapshots of a certain wizard, standing with her under falling snow, with whispered words and warm, chaste kisses.

She woke up flushed and smiling, her heart beating wildly. She felt _childish._ She was sixteen years old. Surely that was too old for schoolgirl crushes and endless dreams about a certain green-eyed wizard. Surely.

But that was what Harry did to her. It hadn't always been this way, which was what was so annoying. Before this year, all she had been was his ever-present best friend, but now... things were just different this year, and she couldn't quite pinpoint when everything changed for her. Because things _had_.

Hermione liked him.

No. It was more than that, but probably less than love, because there was no way for Hermione to know for sure. How could she? She'd never even _liked_ someone this way before.

Hermione eventually climbed out of bed and went about getting ready for the day. Despite the previous evening's disruptions, she, Harry and Ron had all managed to finish their Transfiguration essays, which freed up some time for this evening's DA meeting. There wasn't much in the way of lesson planning for this meeting, as she and Harry decided that they wouldn't tackle anything new until after Christmas.

The day itself went rather slowly. Despite her excitement over the idea of Secret Santa, she felt nervous about it as well. It was a very _Muggle_ thing to suggest and she was a little worried about how the wizards who weren't familiar with Muggle-lore would take it.

Harry sensed her unease during their last lesson of the day, and he could only guess what it was about. He tried to get her attention to ask what was on her mind but she wouldn't look at him, and he just knew that it was on purpose. She was determined to work through whatever was bothering her by herself, and Harry was going to respect that. For now, at least.

She seemed to come back to life when the three of them started on their way to the Room of Requirement. He spotted her moving her lips, mouthing her little speech to herself as she walked. He didn't understand _why_ she was so worried, but he didn't try to diminish her worries by telling her that she had nothing to worry about. Hermione was the most logical person he knew so, if she was worried, she probably had a good reason.

Harry confidently led the DA meeting, doing several demonstrations before having them partner up to, once again, practice the Stunning Spell. It wasn't a particularly complicated spell, but he was keen to get them to start dodging as well. He and Hermione decided on the Shield Charm as the next thing the group covered once they got back from their Break.

Once Harry called an end to proceedings, he handed over to Hermione, who looked rather pale.

There were twenty-eight people in Dumbledore's Army and, even with two members standing on either side of her - Ron and Harry - Hermione still felt a little overwhelmed. She glanced at Harry, who was giving her an encouraging smile, and then proceeded to speak.

"We've all been working very hard this year," she began, holding their attention in a very Harry-like way. "I know I'm not the only person who's proud of the progress we've all made. We will probably have only one more meeting before we break up for Christmas, which is why I thought it would be a nice idea to do a DA Secret Santa."

She waited for the murmuring to erupt and then die down. From the mixture of confused and excited faces, she knew she was going to have to explain.

"Basically, a Secret Santa is when you receive a gift from someone who picks your name out of a hat," she explained crudely. "I have this hat here," she said, taking the Santa's hat from Harry as he handed it to her; "and what we'll do is put everyone's name into it. Of course, not everyone has to participate, but I reckon it will be fun. You might have to get a present for someone you're not particularly close to, but you get a gift out of it as well, and I think it will help us learn about one another." She paused to make sure people were still paying attention. "We'll trade gifts during our last meeting next week, and note how there is a Hogsmeade weekend strategically placed between now and then.

"With that said, this is really just a little game, which means that the presents shouldn't be big or expensive, just thoughtful." She glanced at Harry again, and he nodded encouragingly. "I thought maybe, on the pieces of parchment, we could also list a few things that we like, just to make it easier for whoever ends up picking us." She was met with silence, but she soldiered on. "It's something light, to try to take away from all the dark we've had to deal with this year, so, umm, how does that sound?"

There was more silence.

"I think it sounds great," Harry suddenly said, to which several people started to agree, much to Hermione's relief. She threw him a grateful smile, which he acknowledged with a nod.

Hermione proceeded to hand out the little pieces of paper. "So, just write your names on the top, and then a few things that you like. For example, umm, I like books and I like knitted things... things like that." She wasn't sure why she blushed, but she did, and Harry's knowing smile didn't help. "Just random things, really. Once you're done, just fold the piece of paper, and pop it in the hat." She held the hat out in front of her.

Of course, she and Harry had already done their lists, so they were the only two left with nothing to do while the rest of the group busied themselves, some of them having to dig deep to discover what they actually _liked_.

"What if we get someone we don't like?" Zacharias Smith asked.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, before Harry spoke up. "What would you like someone to get for you if they were to pick your name?" he asked pointedly. It was no secret that Harry wasn't particularly fond of the loud Hufflepuff, and the fact that he'd responded at all to Smith's question was enough to let everyone know that Harry felt quite strongly about the spirit of this game being played out the right way.

Wisely, Smith didn't respond, and just popped his name into the hat. Once all the names were in, Hermione gave it a thorough shake, mixing up all the names until she was satisfied. Harry chuckled on her left side, and she looked at him quizzically.

"I think it's enough, Hermione," he said, sounding amused.

She flushed.

"Go on," he said, prompting her forward.

"It's a _Secret_ Santa," Hermione reminded them as she approached the first group of students. "So don't let anyone know who you've got; it takes away from the fun that way," she instructed as Ginny Weasley pulled out the first name.

Everyone watched as she unfolded the piece of paper and smiled. The redhead had to force herself not to look in the direction of her chosen name, which made Hermione smile.

"Luna, you're next," Hermione said, and so it went on. "Remember, this is all for a bit of fun, so don't go overboard, and do try. We need some Christmas spirit."

Harry merely watched as Hermione commanded the room with the kind of grace that he was coming to associate with her. She moved from student to student, a small smile framing her face. This was a great idea, and he couldn't help letting her know when she finally came around to him and Ron.

"Just pick," she said, her cheeks tinging pink.

Harry did as he was told and reached into the hat, keeping his eyes on her as he did so.

"You are so weird," she finally commented, as she moved on to Ron.

Harry didn't say anything as he peeked at his piece of paper. He had to school his features to make sure his face didn't break out into a full on grin. He might have even done a small happy dance if he wasn't in a crowded room. Without saying a word, he pocketed the piece of paper and looked around, somewhat surprised to see several eyes on him. Mostly girls.

Of course they'd want Harry Potter to have picked them.

Once Hermione was sure she'd gone through everyone, she returned to her initial position between Ron and Harry. She was, of course, the last to pick, seeing as she had been the one walking around with the hat. She stuck her right hand in, picked up the last piece of paper and unfolded it. At first, she was convinced that her eye were deceiving her, but a few blinks later; the name was still written there in scrawl that she knew all too well.

_Harry Potter._


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

_Harry Potter._

Hermione Granger was sure her face gave away her shock and excitement, but nobody seemed to be paying close enough attention. Except Harry, of course, and he felt something ugly twist within him. Who had she picked? Whose name could result in such a reaction from _his_ best friend?

"Who picked Harry?" someone asked, jolting Hermione from her wayward thoughts. She was already thinking hard about what she could possibly get the wizard in question. This was the perfect opportunity to - to what? To show him that she _liked_ him more than either of them were ready for.

"Anyone willing to swap?" someone else asked.

Hermione took a deep breath before she spoke up. "No swapping," she said, loud enough for them all to hear over the sound of their own voices. "That isn't in the spirit of the game," she pointed out. "And believe me, if you try; I _will_ know."

The way she said it, made them all believe her. After what she accomplished with their bewitched coins; it would be wise not to underestimate the young Gryffindor witch.

"I think that's all for today," she said, smiling happily, and then watched as several students started for the exit.

Harry came up close behind her. "I think you're the only person I know who could possibly terrify a room like that and look so happy about it," he commented mildly, clearly amused.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, surprised to find him standing as close as he was. She resisted the urge to put some distance between them and just smiled at him. "Well, I'm a regular old pro, aren't I; having to deal with you and Ron on a daily basis."

"Oh yes; I'm deadly afraid of you," he said, grinning.

"As you should be."

Harry stepped closer to her, dropping the volume of his voice. "So, are you going to tell me who you picked for your Secret Santa?"

She turned to face him fully, her eyes wide. Did he know? "And why would I do that?"

If Harry was surprised by her initial reaction, he didn't let on. He just continued to look at her with innocent, green eyes and a happy little smile. "Because I asked so nicely," he said, almost singing the words.

"You didn't even say the magic word," she pointed out.

Harry exaggerated a pout, and bat his eyelashes endearingly. " _Pleeaase_."

Hermione felt her body stiffen. Goodness, why was he so _perfect_? What was she expected to say to that face? Truly, if he kept it up; she would probably reveal every single one of her secrets.

Before Hermione could formulate a suitable response, Ron was stumbling towards them, looking concerned.

"What's wrong?" Harry was quick to ask, turning away and stepping back from Hermione. "What happened?"

Ron huffed. "Well, it's Smith," he began, already frowning. "I just overheard him saying that he ended up picking Colin, and he's talking about how he's just going to give him some of his spare pieces of parchment. Honestly, I've never met a more insufferable Badger. How is he not in Slytherin?"

Harry looked concerned. "Maybe we could pool together and get Colin something just in case Smith doesn't pull through with a suitable gift," he offered, and Hermione all but melted at the suggestion.

"I think that's a great idea, Harry," Hermione said, absently touching his forearm. "And plus, we know him well enough not to need his list."

Both boys nodded, before the three of them started to leave, seeing as they were the last students left. They didn't talk much on their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room because they were all lost in thought, trying to think up the best gifts for their Secret Santa gifts.

Hermione was still rather giddy that she'd managed to pick Harry. She was a little worried that some of the other girls would think that she did it on purpose. But why would she? It wasn't as if anyone knew the true extent of her crush on the famous wizard. Really, even _she_ didn't know the depth of her own feelings. Right now, she was just his best friend; that was all. All she could do now was thank her lucky stars that it was his name she picked.

She wasn't even worried about who picked her. It actually could have been Zacharias Smith for all she cared. Though, it just never occurred to her that the very person agonising over what to get for her was none other than Harry Potter himself.

Harry knew Hermione well enough not to need the list she'd written, but it was still interesting to see what she'd added to the books and knitted items she'd mentioned earlier. It turned out that she liked ornaments, random trinkets and writing. He assumed that meant that she liked stationery and, maybe, notebooks? Hermione did have a lot of notebooks. What did she do with all of them? Would she mind another one?

Despite her eagerness to start planning Harry's gift, Hermione made them work on their homework. Ron made light-hearted jokes about her nagging, which she didn't seem to mind. He wasn't as irritated as the night before, so the three of them were able to get on in relative peace.

In fact, Hermione was surprised when the person to disrupt their calm was Harry Potter. He grew bored of reading up on the next Potion they would be brewing and took to annoying the hell out of Hermione to get her to reveal who her Secret Santa was. The thing was, though, that Harry Potter's idea of _annoying_ wasn't annoying at all. At least not to Hermione, who felt like she'd won the lottery whenever she was his sole focus.

He tried stealing her quill a couple of times, and shifted her parchment while she was writing, which, okay, _did_ annoy her; but he looked so cute and innocent, and how was she supposed to stay mad at that face?

Wow, she had it bad.

Somehow, Hermione was able to keep him at bay, _and_ convince him to return to his reading. It took great effort, of course, but he eventually did it, and they returned to working. Ron just found it all so amusing, especially since Hermione probably would have flayed him for even taking too long of a breath when he should have been working. These double standards.

Harry, however, didn't let up on trying to figure out who she'd picked. He spent the next few days constantly asking her, whether verbally or in written form. Whenever she asked him who _he_ picked, he would clam up, which definitely interested her.

Hermione's gift idea for him came to her when she was researching catching - and so preserving - snowflakes for Harry. She was definitely curious to find out _why_ he'd asked her about it, but she wasn't sure how to bring the topic up again. He'd shut it down so quickly that she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad memory.

"It's a good one," he told her, when she finally plucked up the courage to ask him about it. She'd found him on his large rock by the Black Lake again, braving the cold in his own stubborn way.

Hermione was more graceful jumping up onto the rock this time around, so there was no need for her to grab his arm, but he still offered it to her knowingly. She didn't even hesitate before she was hugging it to her chest, soaking up the warmth of him.

"At least, I think it's a good one," he added thoughtfully. "I think you'll have to be the judge." He took a long, shuddering breath as his eyes focused on the frozen lake in front of them. "It was my first year in school," he began. "Dudley and his friends, they'd made my year horrible, targeting me during our breaks and making sure that none of the other kids became my friends." He smiled ruefully. "But in late December, just before school closed for the holidays, it started to snow, and our teachers let us out early, to go and play in it, I guess.

"It was the first break that I wasn't scared of being hunted by my cousin and his gang," he said quietly. "I remember standing there, arms spread and mouth wide open, thinking that, if I could just capture this moment, every other day would somehow be worth it. I guess that turned into catching snowflakes. Catching memories." He looked at her, surprised to see the tears in her eyes. "So I think it's a good one," he said softly.

Hermione leaned into him, breaking their eye contact. "It's a good one, Harry," she whispered, and the two of them settled into comfortable silence. It stretched on for quite some time, before Harry heard her teeth chatter. It was his cue to suggest they go inside.

And, as they were headed into the relative warmth of the Castle, Harry couldn't resist the urge to ask her, once again, who she'd picked for her Secret Santa.

Hermione was just curious as to _why_ he was so desperate to know. So she asked him, the next day, as they were making their way to Hogsmeade in a carriage with Ron, Luna, Neville and Ginny. It wasn't exactly a tight squeeze but it was more crowded than the Trio was used to.

"I just want to know," Harry replied evasively.

Hermione eyed him carefully but made no comment. There was definitely more to it, but she wasn't going to ask any more questions while they were in the presence of other people.

"So what shops do we all need to go to?" Hermione asked the group, taking control the only way the future Head Girl could.

From the spatter of responses, they decided to split up into three pairs for the first few hours to pick up their necessary gifts, and then meet at the Three Broomsticks for some lunch. Harry ended up setting off with Neville, Hermione with Ginny, and Ron with Luna, which had the redhead looking a little bewildered. _How_ had that happened?

Hermione and Harry exchanged an amused look before they went in opposite directions. As much as Hermione wanted to be paired with him, she couldn't exactly buy the things she needed for his gift while in his presence. He would be sure to know, and she was not going to give him the satisfaction of having his relentless question answered before time.

Harry was suffering the same dilemma, though he wasn't quite sure why. He and Neville headed straight for Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Neville whispered to Harry that he wanted to get an engraved set of quills for his Secret Santa, which Harry thought was a great idea. The praise seemed to bolster the Gryffindor, and he disappeared into the shop purposefully, while Harry looked around, absently meandering through the aisles. He had _an idea_ , but he wasn't sure if his idea actually existed.

Well, he was a wizard. If it didn't exist; he would _make_ it exist.

Harry found the perfect set of leather-bound notebooks. Well, they were slightly smaller than Hermione's normal notebooks. They were rather journals, but that didn't seem like a concern. Harry plucked them off the shelf and made his way to the front counter. He had to explain his idea to the young man behind the desk two times, before he finally clicked.

"You want them embroided, or is it engraved?"

Harry nodded anyway. "Is that possible?"

"Magically, anything is possible," he said cryptically, which wasn't exactly an answer but Harry decided to roll with it.

"Well, do you do it here?" Harry asked; "or do I have to go to another shop for that?"

"We can send it out for you," the man replied. "There isn't a shop in Hogsmeade that does it, but it will take two to three days though."

That was cutting it close, and Harry couldn't keep the grimace off his face.

"Of course, though, with a little extra incentive, I can get it back for you by Monday," he said coyly, and Harry had to roll his eyes. "We'll deliver it by Owl, of course."

Harry waited a beat, accepting the exploitation. "Fine. By Monday."

"Maybe Tuesday morning," the man said, dropping his gaze. "It has to come here first, before I can send it to you."

Harry growled quietly. "It better be perfect then," he said sharply. "You wouldn't want Harry Potter to be unhappy, now would you?"

The young man blinked in surprise and, frankly, Harry was surprised as well. Was that some kind of threat? Did he just use his fame like that? Merlin, what was this gift doing to him? Better yet, what was this gift _for Hermione_ doing to him?

"It will be perfect," the man said, nodding his head. "You have my word."

Harry sighed. "Okay then," he relented. "This is what I want on the books..." By the time Harry was done handing over the various drawings he'd done, Neville was back at his side, grinning widely. Harry resisted the urge to ask him all sorts of questions, as he paid for his own items.

Neville's eyes bulged slightly at how much Harry was spending.

"They're special order," Harry told him. "Merlin, please don't tell Hermione; she'll kill me with guilt over this not being in the spirit of the game."

Neville chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me, Harry."

And Harry believed him. Really, truly, Neville Longbottom was a boy who you trusted. Once the order was sent through and everything was paid for, the two boys left the shop. Barely an hour had gone by, so there was no point in heading to the Three Broomsticks already.

"Honeyduke's," Neville declared, laughing at his own antics.

"Lead the way," Harry said, laughing as well. "Oh, I can pick up some sugar quills. I love those things."

"I think the entire world knows that," Neville commented as the two of them trudged through the sticky snow. It wasn't exactly melting but it was rather sludgy and they had to be careful where they stepped in case they went sliding across the cobbled ground. "The _Quibbler_ has a weekly column about your likes and dislikes."

Harry blinked. "It does?"

Neville nodded. "Oh yeah," he said. "They've always supported you, Harry. Luna says that her father truly believes you and he wants to do all he can to get others to believe as well. And plus, is it so horrible that his little column shows that you truly aren't going Dark? I mean, what Dark wizard doesn't like Chocolate Frogs?"

Harry laughed out loud, almost slipping on the ground. "It's just the concept that gets me," Harry tried to explain, using a hand on Neville's shoulder to steady himself. "They're _frogs_ , Neville, urgh." He shuddered at the thought. "I mean, I sort of like chocolate, but leaping frogs, no thank you."

"If I recall correctly, Hermione bought you an entire box of them for Christmas in our first year," he said, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm pretty sure that the entire box ended up empty."

Harry couldn't hide his blush. "In her defence, she didn't really _know_ back then," he said. "And I'm sure that the lot of you ate most of them."

"But you did brave a few, just for her, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to be rude," he said, somewhat defensively. "And now she knows I don't like them, which is something she loves to tease me about."

Neville just smiled, his head shaking slightly, as they reached Honeyduke's. Harry opened the door and Neville went in first. It wasn't as full as Harry thought it might be, but they did run into Ron and Luna. The redhead still looked beyond bewildered, but the sides of his mouth were turned slightly upwards from his own amusement at whatever Luna was going on about. He didn't even beg his fellow Gryffindors to save him.

Neville and Harry looked through the shelves for a while, picking out various sweets and candies. Harry figured that, with this Secret Santa thing in play; he could afford to give his other friends things from Honeyduke's. Everybody liked a good sweet or two.

On their way to pay, Harry stalled and lifted a box of chocolate frogs.

Neville raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"For Hermione," Harry said simply.

Neville chuckled. "You do know that Hermione doesn't like chocolate frogs either, right?"

Harry did know, and Neville knew that Harry knew. "So, really, I'm buying this box for the lot of you, aren't I?" he joked.

Neville shrugged, still smiling. "You don't hear me complaining. I love those dainty amphibians."

The more time that Harry spent with Neville; the more he started to wonder why they hadn't hung out more before today. Neville was great company, and really funny too. Harry made a mental note to spend more time with the blond Gryffindor.

Once they were done in Honeyduke's, the two of them did some further wandering. They stopped by a book shop and just browsed. Harry was tempted to buy Hermione something more but decided against it. She would disapprove of her set of journals anyway. He didn't want to risk more of her wrath.

They past by a Quidditch shop, which Harry resisted entering. Neville didn't seem that interested. Which was how they ended up in a jewellery shop. Neville spotted something in the window that he might have liked to get for his grandmother, and Harry followed him inside. The shop was empty but for the two of them, and two older women behind the counters. One of the women was quick to start helping Neville, while the other hovered as Harry looked around.

Harry glanced over the rings, lingered on the bracelets and then stopped on the necklaces. There were so many different types of charms, both pretty and meaningful. Then there were the not so formal ones, like little books, broomsticks and cauldrons. It all made him smile.

"See anything you like?" the woman behind the counter asked, her voice raspy.

Harry felt slightly uneasy, but he tried to keep it off his face. "I'm just looking," he said simply.

"We received some new watches," she informed him. "They're very lovely. Would you like to take a look?"

Harry was tempted to say no, but something stopped him. The word just wouldn't leave his mouth, so he finally nodded.

The woman smiled, revealing yellow-stained teeth. She was a little scary-looking, but Harry's unease was slowly fading. Something told him that he didn't have anything to be worried about with this woman. "They're over here," she said, gesturing for him to move to his right. "We've got various metals, and various faces. Are you looking for yourself, or for a friend?"

Harry blinked. He didn't wear a watch, and he wasn't sure he wanted to start. "Umm, do you have matching his and her sets?" he found himself asking.

She smiled widely at him. "Oh, how wonderful!" she exclaimed, as she bent down to retrieve several boxes. "Of course, you can specify next to every detail of the watch itself," she explained. "You can pick aspects of the watches you see before you and we can have them custom made."

Harry just nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. What was he doing? Was he _really_ going to buy a set of watches? _Matching_ watches?

Yes, yes he was.

Harry was done with his purchase well before Neville was. The woman promised him that the watches would be delivered on Wednesday morning, specially wrapped and sealed, only to be opened on Christmas Day. It was a gift that Harry would hand over in private, in case... Well, he wasn't sure what would happen.

"Ready to go?" Neville asked him, getting his attention.

Harry nodded. "I'm thinking that I could do with a nice, warm butterbeer right now," he said, leading the way out of the shop. "Though, I would like to make one more stop before we head to the Three Broomsticks, if that's all right?"

Neville just nodded, following behind Harry. They stopped at a clothing store, and Harry bought various pairs of quirky socks, several scarves and beanie sets, and a few pairs of gloves. Neville made no comment as Harry paid, but he did find it amusing that most of the items he bought were for girls.

Neville and Harry were the last pair to arrive at the Three Broomsticks, which was already full of students. They found their friends in a booth in the back, six butterbeers in front of them. Harry slipped in next to Hermione, who beamed at him.

"I hope you don't mind, but we ordered for you," she said, blushing slightly. "We weren't sure how long we'd have to wait."

"Thank you," he said, meeting her gaze. "I was wishing for one of these."

Neville nodded, letting everyone know that Harry really was.

"So, what did the two of you get up to?" Ginny asked from her position beside Neville. "Looks like you did quite a bit of shopping."

Neville smiled at her. "Now, you know we can't tell you," he said. "I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

Ginny pouted for a moment, before she relented and started on her drink again. The six of them fell into easy conversation, happily discussing their plans for the upcoming Christmas Break. Harry was going to Grimmauld Place, Hermione was going home to Oxfordshire, Luna was going on an expedition northwards with her father, Neville was going home to Longbottom Manor, and Ron and Ginny were going home to the Burrow.

Harry would end up seeing them, he was sure, when the Weasleys visited Grimmauld, but nobody made any promises. The good thing, Hermione supposed, was that Harry wouldn't be alone in the Castle. She'd worried about that when the Weasleys announced that they would be going home for Christmas this year, citing something about not spending enough time as a family, especially with Voldemort around.

It was also one of the reasons why Hermione insisted on going home as well. That, and she missed her parents quite terribly. As an only child, she was convinced that she'd adjusted to boarding life quite well, but that didn't stop her from missing being at home every day with the Drs Granger.

Conversation went on rather nicely until Harry gasped.

"What? What?"

Harry was looking at Hermione. "What on earth happened to you?" he asked, his eyes drifting down her back to her legs.

"Oh," she sounded, flushing red instantly.

Ginny laughed. "It you're referring to the wet, and the dirt; you should know that she fell."

"I slipped on a particularly slippery rock," Hermione defended herself, even as Harry's face broke out into a smile.

"Three times," Ginny added, and Hermione shot her a heated look. Ginny ignored it. "It was hilarious."

"She laughed for a good thirty seconds before she even thought to help me up," Hermione muttered, huffing. "She laughed even longer the second time. I had to get up myself the third time. My gloves are soaked right through."

Harry waited a beat. "Well, I have a solution for that," he said, reaching into the packet under the table and bringing out a lovely pair of red gloves. "These are for you," he said, absently reaching for her hands.

Hermione's brain shut down long enough for him to take hold of her hands. "Oh, no, Harry, I couldn't," she protested weakly, coming back online.

"It's okay," he said, gently. "I bought them for you."

"Oh."

Harry refrained from putting them on for her, because they _were_ inside, but it was mainly because his entire face was heating up. Everyone was looking at him, and his heart was starting to race. He eventually released her hands, leaving the gloves with her, and then turned to the group, who were just staring at him.

"I, umm, well, I bought gloves for you and Luna as well," Harry said, looking at Ginny. He reached into the packet again and retrieved a set of blue and a set of gold gloves, before handing them over. He'd also bought a pair for Cho, but he decided not to mention that.

"Thank you, Harry," Luna said, clutching the soft fabric of the blue gloves to her chest. "They're lovely."

"They really are," Ginny agreed. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry let out a shaky breath and glanced at Hermione, who looked pensive. It took her a moment to shake herself out of it, and then return to the conversation. Harry waited until the other four were involved in quite a debate to lean into Hermione, so he could whisper in her ear.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, I got only you a matching scarf and beanie as well."

Hermione yelped, the feel of his breath against her skin both shocking and so lovely. Harry jumped at the sound and pulled back, clearly worried.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said; "what did you say?"

"Nothing," Harry protested innocently. "Honestly, I didn't say anything." He gave Hermione a significant look, which she did her best to ignore. Harry leaned back, wondering what it was about what he'd said that made her react the way she did. Didn't she want the matching scarf and beanie?

Harry returned to his butterbeer, and they all managed to get past the awkward moment. Harry didn't actually speak to Hermione directly again until they were leaving, and he asked if she needed help with her bags.

Hermione just shook her head, and Harry left it at that.

When they got back to the Castle, Harry went up to his room to put his things away. He was feeling _odd_ , like he'd done something wrong, but he wasn't sure what. He didn't like the feeling at all.

Harry didn't go back down to the Common Room until it was time for dinner. He'd toyed with the idea of going out to his rock, but ultimately decided against it. It really was cold outside, and it really was no fun sitting out there without Hermione, now that he _had_.

The Common Room was empty save for one person. Hermione looked like she was waiting for him, and she seemed to perk up when she spotted him. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand and he joined her on the couch across from the burning fireplace.

"They've all gone down to dinner," she said, watching as he looked around. "Apparently Hogsmeade visits make Gryffindors hungry."

"Why aren't you down in the Great Hall with them?" he asked.

"Well," she said smiling at him; "I was waiting for a certain matching scarf and beanie before I braved the cold."

"Oh," he said, grinning. "I'll be right back," he rushed, jumping to his feet and racing up the stairs. He ruffled through his things until he found what he was looking for, and then raced right back down the stairs. When he returned to her side on the couch, he absently sat a little closer to her.

Hermione noticed but she said nothing. What could she say, really? He didn't even realise what he was doing, which she agreed was worse than having him know, surely.

"These are for you," Harry said proudly. "Gryffindor red."

"Because I'm a Gryffindor?"

He blinked. "No, because I like the way that you look in red."

"Oh?"

Harry blushed bright red. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "Is that weird? Am I allowed to say that?"

She frowned slightly. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I mean, I said something earlier and, well, you, ummm, you _yelped_ , Hermione."

Hermione offered him a reassuring smile. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "You just surprised me is all."

"But we're okay?"

"We're perfect, Harry," she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "And thank you for my gloves, hat and scarf. I absolutely love them."

At that, Harry stood up and put out his hands to help her up. Hermione ended up standing right in front of him, close enough for her to feel his breath on the bridge of her nose. He reached for her new scarf and wrapped it around her neck. He placed her beanie on her head and positioned it just right, taking care not to pull on her hair. He was so gentle; so careful, and Hermione realised only after he stepped back that she was holding her breath.

"Shall we go?" he asked, staring at her face. "Now that you're going to be nice and warm; we can go for a walk down to the Lake after dinner, if you'd like," he offered nervously.

"I would like that very much, Harry," she said calmly - nothing like she felt. His suggestion felt like _more,_ but she wasn't sure how that could be.

Harry had the somewhat reckless urge to take hold of her hand, but he stopped himself. "Let's get going," he said, stepping back and turning to lead the way out of the Common Room. They walked side by side, their fingers occasionally brushing against one another, but neither of them were bothered by the contact.

In fact, by the time they reached the Great Hall; they were both blushing madly. Only Ginny seemed to notice, but she made no comment as Harry and Hermione sat down together. Closer than normal; not that either of them even realised.

Hermione removed her scarf to eat, and laid it over her lap. Harry smiled at her, and then proceeded to eat his dinner, trying not to panic about the walk that was going to come after. They normally did take walks, but this felt different. He wasn't sure why or how it could be, but it did.

"Do you think there will be dessert?" Ron asked after a while, making all his friends laugh. Trust the youngest male Weasley to be the first to ask about dessert.

Even though no words passed between them, both Harry and Hermione knew that they wouldn't be staying for dessert. It would be too late and too cold for their walk if they were to stay. So, by mutual decision, they both stood up and gathered their winter garments.

"Where are you two off to?" Ginny asked.

"Just a walk," Harry answered.

"DA things?" Ginny asked, pressing for information.

"Sure," Harry said absently, stepping back. He placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back and led the way out of the Great Hall. Just before they left the Castle, Harry made sure that she was bundled up warmly. He wrapped her scarf nice and tight, even covering her mouth and nose to protect them from the bitter cold.

"Can you hear me?" she asked.

"Loud and clear," he said, tightening his own scarf. "Can _you_ hear me?"

Even though he couldn't see her mouth smile; he could tell that she was smiling widely through her eyes. He'd never really noticed just how expressive her eyes were. They revealed so much sometimes.

"I feel like we're going on some super secret mission," she said, jumping slightly.

"Easy there, _Batman_ ," he teased, starting to walk. "Do try not to slip, if you can."

Just as he finished speaking, Hermione did slip on the icy top step and her sudden grip on Harry's arm was all that saved her from landing hard on her bottom. She tried to glare at him when he laughed, but she more or less started to laugh as well. His real laugh was rather contagious.

Over the years, Hermione learned to tell the difference between his true laugh and his forced one. She didn't blame him for having a fake laugh, mainly because of the outward expectations that the Wizarding World had for him. There were things that she knew he was working through, and still _had_ to work through, which would probably make it difficult for him to feel happiness.

And then there was _this_ laugh. It was honest, true, real and so very beautifully _Harry_.

The two of them walked arm-in-arm towards the Black Lake, neither of them feeling the need to talk. If anything, Hermione was actually rather surprised by how cold it actually was. She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. She gave herself fifteen minutes at the most; probably more if they kept moving.

"Do you know that I hate the cold?" she asked, breaking their silence as they approached the Lake. "The cold, and the wet," she said, shivering. "Hate them."

"Why?"

"Well, for starters, it's _cold_ ," she said, laughing; "and, well, I do end up on the ground more often than not, which isn't fun. I mean, it's really difficult not to feel miserable when it's pouring out, isn't it?"

Harry glanced at her. "So you prefer the summer then?"

"I'm actually a fan of Autumn," she informed him. "I love the colours, and, I don't know, but the thought of falling leaves just fills me with warmth."

It amazed him, really, that he was still learning new things about her. He hoped it would never stop, because, well, he was convinced there were _many_ layers to this wonderful girl. He'd even called her amazing, because he was coming to realise that she truly _was_.

Harry didn't keep them outside for very long. Despite the cold, it was nice to spend some time with Hermione, alone and without eyes constantly watching him. This year was one he would like to forget, but his days weren't all that terrible recently. He wasn't yet ready to acknowledge that it had a lot to do with Hermione Granger.

By the time they made it back to the Common Room; Hermione felt as if they hadn't even left the Castle. It wasn't yet curfew, but the Common Room was emptier than what was normal for a Saturday night.

"Didn't Fred and George mention something about a demonstration in the Great Hall?" Hermione asked, absently recalling one of the twins - she still wasn't sure which one - saying that they had a new product and were going to set it off tonight.

"They're just trying to get themselves expelled," Harry said quietly, as they stepped towards the staircases leading up to their separate dormitories. "And, with Um _bitch_ prowling; it'll probably happen."

Instead of reprimanding his use of language, Hermione giggled. "I'm sure they're being careful," she said, which had Harry giving her a pointed look. "Right. Of course. Never mind."

Harry loosened his scarf and let it hang down around his neck. Without asking for permission, he did the same for Hermione. Her face was bright pink, though neither of them was sure it was from the cold.

Hermione was the first to yawn, and Harry quickly followed suit, making them both smile. "It's been quite the day, hasn't it?" she asked.

"All that shopping has tired you out, huh?"

"You could say that."

"So then it's time for bed for my pretty girl," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

Hermione might have died and gone to heaven. Did he just call her _his_ pretty girl? Oh. My. God.

Harry tugged on her beanie until it covered her eyes, and he just stared at what was left of her face for the longest time, his mind racing. Before he lost his nerve, he placed a gentle kiss against the soft skin of her left cheek, absently breathing her in. "Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione was too shocked to speak and, by the time she recovered enough to lift her beanie; Harry was gone. Her face broke out into a smile of, maybe, disbelief, and pure happiness. That boy.

All she knew was that she was definitely going to have another night of vivid dreams filled with a certain green-eyed wizard, and she didn't mind that at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

He was beyond excited.

Harry Potter woke up on Tuesday morning and practically leaped out of bed. He hurried through getting ready and then practically sprinted all the way to the Great Hall, desperately awaiting the arrival of the mail.

The fact that he had to wait a further half an hour did nothing to dampen his mood. When the owls came flying into the Great Hall, he was already up out of his seat, ready to receive the journals. He was so excited; it was almost embarrassing, but he suddenly didn't care in the slightest. Hermione found it amusing, which was enough for Harry.

What Harry didn't expect was to receive a letter from a rather scary-looking, black owl. Harry took the letter from it carefully, offering it a piece of bacon in return.

"Do you know who it's from?" Ron asked from across the table.

Harry shook his head. "No clue," he said curiously. The journals arrived before he could open the letter, and then he was too distracted by his own excitement. He couldn't wait for Hermione to see them. Well, first, Harry had to look at them himself. What if they didn't come out right?

"I'm assuming that's the present for a certain someone," Ginny said, commenting on Harry's stupid smile.

"Oh, it is," he said. "I'm so excited for tomorrow."

Everyone could tell. There was no need for him to say it out loud.

"What about the letter, Harry?" Neville asked, reminding the green-eyed wizard about his first piece of mail.

Harry had to rip his eyes away from the wrapped up journals, and he picked up the letter, opening it cautiously. Unfortunately, his curiosity about receiving the letter quickly fell away as he started to read it, and Hermione could only watch as he seemed to close up right before her eyes. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he was standing up and bolting from the Great Hall, desperate to be alone in case he did the embarrassing thing and started to cry.

Harry searched the corridors for an empty classroom, his heart thundering in his chest. No no no! This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. No no no! Harry ducked into an empty classroom and slammed the door shut, equal parts angry and, well, heartbroken.

The thing was that he wasn't even surprised. It was too good to be true, wasn't it? How could he have even entertained the idea that _he_ would get to have a decent Christmas with... with who? The godfather he didn't even properly know? The werewolf professor who spent twelve years staying away from him?

Harry felt cold, and numb, and he dropped to the floor in a heap, his back leaning against the cold wall. He dropped his head, his arms clutching his knees against his chest. He was shaking with the strain of suppressing his emotions. He felt so much like a child that it only made him angrier. How foolish had he been to believe that they would _let_ him go to Grimmauld Place when they'd forced him to stay at Privet Drive for so long over the summer?

Somehow, Harry just knew that the reason he wasn't going to Grimmauld Place was the same reason that Dumbledore was ignoring him, and it made him rage. He held himself tightly in a ball, trying desperately not to let his magic overpower him, but he had been so looking forward to not being alone this Christmas, and then this! What was -

His anger dissipated quite suddenly.

Harry felt her warm fingers on the back of his neck, effectively ending his myriad of twisting thoughts. He felt smaller than he'd ever felt before, but the comfort of her touch kept him from completely falling apart. He was surprised by the angry tears he could feel on his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away.

Harry was startled by the deep concern in her eyes when he finally managed to look at her. Hermione Granger was kneeling at his side, one hand playing with the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck and the other clutching the letter he'd discarded once he entered the classroom.

"Did you read it?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

She shook her head.

So Harry told her what it said, and how he felt about it. She listened quietly, her eyes expressive and telling. He could see tears spring to her eyes at times, but she did not cry. He'd cried enough for the both of them. He'd cried for how unfair it all was, but it would always be what he had to accept, because he had _nobody_. These were the people who were supposed to care about him, and they were treating him like... Harry sighed. He felt so pathetic.

But Hermione changed all that when she finally spoke, saying words that both stunned him and filled him with the kind of warmth that seemed to melt away his icy cold anger.

"Come with me."

Harry blinked. "What?"

For a moment, Hermione didn't even realise what she'd said. Then, her mind clearer and more determined, she nodded and repeated herself. "Come home with me," she said. "Spend the holidays with me and my parents."

He just stared at her.

"I want you to," she added. "I won't have you be alone, Harry; not like this."

Harry felt more tears threatening to come. "I - I can't, Hermione," he said softly, thickly. "I won't impose on your family."

"You wouldn't," she rushed. "I'm sure of it. Please say you'll come. We'd love to have you. My parents will definitely want you to stay with us."

"Do you really mean that?" he asked quietly, too afraid to _hope_ for yet another holiday plan that could possibly fall through as well. But she was different. Hermione _cared_ about him.

"Of course, Harry," she said strongly, needing him to know. "We'll write to them during lunch, and then we'll talk to Professor Dumbledore after classes let out."

"What if he says no?"

She gently pat his knee, merely comforting him further. "Don't worry, Mr Potter; I'll convince him. There's no way that he'll say no."

* * *

He said no the first two times.

Albus Dumbledore couldn't, in good conscience, allow Harry Potter to leave the safety of the Hogwarts Castle when he knew what was out there. And, really, it wouldn't do to impose on the Granger family with such short notice.

The one thing that the Headmaster didn't anticipate was a truly determined Hermione Granger. She was ready with her counterarguments, even before Dumbledore was done explaining his own reasons for the decisions that he made.

Hermione told him that her parents already said that it would be okay - though they hadn't yet replied to the letter that she had sent with Hedwig - and that they would love to have Harry stay for the holidays. The second reason Dumbledore stated was quickly shut down by Hermione insisting that Dumbledore could cast all the necessary wards on her house himself, if he was so worried about Harry's safety.

 _And_ they'd managed to get Dobby to agree to stay on alert for them, and the eager elf would be protection enough, if only to provide a sure and safe escape plan, on the off chance that there was an attack of some sort.

"Well, it appears to me that you've both given this quite a bit of thought," Dumbledore said, seemingly forced into submission.

Until that point, Hermione had done all the talking, and Harry definitely wasn't about to start then. The problem was, well, that he sort of blamed Dumbledore for the fact that he wasn't allowed to go to Grimmauld Place anymore. And he blamed him for the treatment he was suffering at the hands of Professor Umbridge. Because of his own feelings, he didn't trust himself to address Dumbledore.

In fact, Harry was convinced that he would end up accusing the much older man of not caring about him.

Eventually, after receiving a response to everything he said; Dumbledore was forced into agreeing, which surprised both young Gryffindors.

"Really?" Harry asked, and Hermione nudged him to keep himself quiet.

"Indeed, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said quickly, getting to her feet. "When can we expect you?"

"I think I'll go tonight, Miss Granger," he said simply. "It's better that way."

"Oh, okay," she said, nodding. "Well, thank you." She clearly wanted to leave, just in case Dumbledore changed his mind.

Harry found it all rather amusing, but he managed to keep the smile off his face until Dumbledore finally dismissed them.

They'd just left the Headmaster's office when Harry did something he'd never done before, and drew Hermione into a hug tight against his chest. To say she was surprised would be an understatement, but she eventually relaxed into his embrace.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his breath warm against the top of her head.

"Don't thank me yet," she said against his chest, reluctantly pulling back to look at his face. "There are still my parents to consider." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure they won't say no but, on the off chance that they do; I'm going to sneak you into my bedroom regardless."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that how it works then? You just invite boys into your bedroom without your parents knowing?"

Hermione flushed a deep red that Harry absolutely loved. "You should be so lucky," she said, rolling her eyes. "My room is awesome."

Harry didn't doubt that.

"This is going to be so much fun," she declared as they started on their way to Gryffindor Tower. "You'll get to meet my parents, and see how _not_ funny my dad is. It's actually sad, you know, but my mum and I just laugh to be polite. Oh, and you'll have Christmas lunch with us at my grandparents' house. Well, it's not really lunch. We normally eat at around four o'clock, because it always takes so long for everyone to arrive. But it's so worth the wait. My nan is a turkey genius. It's going to be great."

Harry could only smile at her enthusiasm. She was truly adorable when she got like this.

He only allowed himself to feel his own excitement when Hermione practically ran towards him at dinner later that night, a letter in her hand and her face giving away its contents. She didn't need to say the words out loud, but she did anyway.

"They said yes!"

After briefly explaining to their friends just what the two of them were on about, Harry settled in to his dinner, feeling calmer than he had all day. The journals were tucked away safely in his trunk, waiting to be inspected, and the most perfect girl was tucked into his right side.

Harry Potter no longer felt pathetic.

* * *

He thought they were perfect.

Harry Potter had to wait until after his roommates fell asleep to scrutinise the journals, and he was able to determine that they turned out far better than he anticipated. For a little while, he'd been slightly self-conscious of his own drawing skills, especially with Dean's obvious talents usually on display, but only Harry could draw what needed to be drawn for this gift to be as thoughtful as he needed it to be.

Harry ended up spending majority of Wednesday morning trying to come up with the perfect thing to write in a little note to be attached to the present. Even if he didn't sign it, he just knew she would know it was from him, so there was no point pretending.

His friends had all raised their eyebrows when he'd received another package that morning and, now that he was going home with Hermione; he didn't have to give the watch to her before they left on the Hogwarts Express, as he'd originally planned.

After their classes let out, Harry disappeared behind the curtains of his bed and studied the watches closely, surprised by how calm he felt. If taken the wrong way - which would be the _right_ way for normal people - then the fact that they were a matching set could mean _something_ , but they didn't. Not really.

Did they?

"Just write something," he said to himself. So he did. It was something simple.

_Merry Christmas, Hermione. Hope you like them!  
_ _Love, Harry._

Of course, Harry agonised over the word 'love.' But then he decided that he did love her, _in some way_. She was his best friend and their relationship meant the world to him. _She_ meant the world to him, and he wanted her to know.

By the time it was time to head to the Room of Requirement, Harry was a bucket of nerves. She'd gone with him to McGonagall's office so he could give his favourite professor a beanie and scarf set. The Gryffindor Head of House was emotional enough to slip into her deep Scottish accent, which had both Harry and Hermione smiling knowingly.

Harry ventured out alone to deliver his gift to Cho, and they'd talked for a few minutes. He felt awkward around her, and he suspected that it had something to do with how he felt _after_ they'd kissed. After Hermione explained what the Ravenclaw could be feeling, Harry didn't want to make her year any harder than it clearly already was. So maybe this was it, and that was surprisingly okay with him.

Harry couldn't even bring himself to look at Hermione as they walked side by side. He felt nervous and excited at the same time, which wasn't exactly a new combination for him, but it was the first time he'd felt it with regards to Hermione.

When the Trio reached the room, there were already a few students hanging around, each of them holding a present of some sort in their hands. They were all different shapes and sizes, and Harry could practically feel their excitement. Harry made a mental note to tell Hermione that this was the greatest idea she'd ever had. Maybe he should have put _that_ on the note.

Harry moved towards a corner of a room, closed his eyes, and wished for a Christmas tree. A moment later, the Room offered them one, and Harry was the first to pop his present under the tree. The other students were quick to follow suit, and Hermione gave him an appreciative smile when she set down her present. The question he'd been asking her near incessantly was going to be answered today, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

From what he remembered of her reaction to the name; it had to be someone special to her. He was uncomfortable with her having other _special_ people, which was more confusing than worrying.

Once all the students in the DA were present and their gifts were tucked safely under the tree, Hermione started the meeting.

"I'm sure you're all eager to get started on the trading of gifts, but we thought we'd just work for an hour to make sure we all know what to work on over the Break," she said, knowing full well that only _some_ would be able to practice their magic. "Also, when we get back, we're going to start work on the Shielding Spell, so do feel free to read up on it beforehand."

Harry and Ron exchanged an amused look, both of them knowing that practically nobody would read up on the spell. Hermione glanced at Harry in that moment, and caught his snicker.

She turned back to the group. "Also, to be able to receive your gift today, you're going to have to successfully stun Harry."

The raven-haired wizard's jaw dropped in surprise, and Hermione laughed. She was quickly joined by the rest of the group, and Harry forced a glare on her.

"Very funny," he commented dryly, though he couldn't hold his smile at bay for very long.

Hermione's smile didn't disappear. "So we'll work for an hour, and then we'll do presents."

It wasn't up for discussion, and the group quickly got down to business. Harry moved around, correcting wand movements and a few of the pronunciations. In the end, they worked for a little over half an hour before Hermione decided that, collectively, they couldn't wait any longer.

They gathered around the tree like the school children that they were, and Hermione stood in front of them while she explained how it was going to work. "The secret part ends here," she said. "We'll hand our present to our recipient, and then that person will hand their present to theirs, and so on until everybody has received a present. And then we'll open them all together."

Hermione looked at Ginny. "Gin, do you want to get us started?"

Ginny stood up and moved towards the tree. She searched for her present, picked it up and then carried it to Michael Corner. The Ravenclaw blushed and Hermione had to prompt him to get him moving. His present was for Angelina Johnson, who picked Terry Boot, who picked Lee Jordan, who picked Cho Chang, who picked Ron Weasley, who picked Neville Longbottom, who picked Ginny. Hermione had to get Luna to start another thread, and so on until there were only two gifts left under the tree.

"Does everybody have one?" Hermione asked.

"You don't, Hermione," Neville pointed out. "It looks like you and Harry ended up picking each other."

Hermione just stared at Neville, as if she hadn't heard him.

"Go on then," Neville prompted. "Exchange gifts."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, before she started to move towards the tree to retrieve her present. Her hands were trembling, and she hated that all eyes were on her. She wasn't even offered the chance to calm her breathing because she was made aware of the fact that Harry was retrieving his present as well, which she now knew was _hers_.

Harry's present was hers.

Hermione could barely keep it together. When she stood up with her gift, Harry was _right there_ , holding out a beautifully wrapped gift. Hermione suddenly felt self-conscious. What if her gift didn't measure up to his?

"This is awesome," Harry said, pushing his gift forward. "We picked each other, Hermione. What are the chances of that?"

Before Hermione's mouth decided to sprout out the probability of such a thing happening, she thrust her gift forward, and they made the exchange. Why was he smiling at her like that?

"You could've just told me, you know?" Harry said quietly.

"And ruin the surprise; I think not," she said, thankfully finding her voice. "It was a lot of fun watching you squirm."

Harry just shook his head before he moved to sit down, and she settled in right beside him. She wanted to see his face when he opened his present, and she could only assume that he wanted to see hers as well.

Harry did. _Desperately_.

Hermione looked at the group. "Let's get started," she said happily. "And remember to thank your Santa."

From that moment on, the entire Room fell away. Hermione's sole focus was on the present in her lap and the boy to her left. In her periphery, she could see Harry delicately work the bow, and then slowly unwrap the paper. She was caught between watching him and opening her own present.

In the end, her curiosity to find out what he got for her won out and she quickly unwrapped the gift. As soon as her eyes caught sight of the first journal, she gasped. "Harry!" It came out as a high-pitched squeak, but everyone else was so focused on their own presents that, really, only Harry heard her. Thank goodness for small mercies.

"Do you like them?" Harry asked, looking at her, concern in his eyes.

"I love them," she said, beaming at him as she looked at the six journals with various different covers. "Harry, these are amazing! How? Just, how?"

Harry gave her his full attention. "Well, I had the pictures, essentially, cut into the leather."

"But where did you get the pictures?" she asked, clutching one of the journals to her chest. "This is amazing. They are amazing."

Harry felt himself blush. "Well, I kind of drew them," he admitted nervously.

Hermione marvelled at him, her eyes displaying the rush of emotion she felt for him. "You're amazing," she blurted out, and then turned a deep red. Redder than the scarf she was wearing. _His_ scarf.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, resisting the urge to throw her arms around him. For some reason, Hermione returned the six journals to their wrapping. They were private, and she could tell that Harry wasn't comfortable with everyone knowing that he could _also_ draw. He truly was a talented boy. It wasn't even that he was a wizard.

Harry was relieved to see her put the journals away, but then her eyes were on him, waiting for him to finish opening her present. Harry finished unwrapping his gift, and stared at the picture frame in his hands for a solid thirty seconds before Hermione got his attention. The picture was one of the three of them, standing in the falling snow, arms spread and mouths wide open. It was perfect.

She decided that she needed to explain. "After you told me about that day in the first grade, I had an idea and, when it started to snow after our snowball fight on Sunday; I had Colin snap a picture of the three of us. And then, well, I figured out how to _catch_ the snowflakes, and so those are all real, enlarged snowflakes in the frame." She gently touched his forearm. "I wasn't able to get you to capture _that_ moment, but I managed to capture this one for you. It probably doesn't mean the same as - "

"It's _more_ ," he suddenly said, cutting her off. "It's so much more, Hermione. Thank you."

"You got me all these wonderful notebooks, and I don't know; I feel like I should be getting you something more," she said, dropping her gaze.

Harry used his finger to lift her chin so she would look at him. "You already are, Hermione," he said simply. "I get to spend Christmas with you. Do you have any idea how great that sounds to me?"

Hermione just nodded, and then Ron was upon them, demanding to see what they'd received, and happily showing off his Quidditch Keeper gloves that Cho bought for him. Hermione stuck to the simple answer that Harry bought her journals. She comfortably showed one of them, which had an enlarged snitch and a broomstick - a Nimbus 2000 - encircled in flames.

Ron was the only one who understood the meaning behind the fire, but he made no comment. All in all, there was a rather decent spread of gifts, save for the parchment that Smith insisted on giving Colin. By mutual consensus, Harry, Ron and Hermione had bought Colin some picture developing potion and and some photo paper. The fourth-year Gryffindor looked like he would start to cry, so Harry quickly removed himself from the situation. Colin tended to get quite emotional whenever it came to Harry James Potter.

The DA hung around for quite some time, just chatting and enjoying each other's company and presents. Ron even managed to coax some of the boys into throwing conjured balls at him, so he could use his new gloves.

Harry mentioned to Hermione that he wanted to leave, and she told him that she would go with him. It was just what he wanted, and he was sure she could see the relief on his face. Hermione just smiled at him. They said their farewells, and then the two of them started on their way to Gryffindor Tower. Harry had the picture frame tucked under his arm, and he was already picturing where he would put it on the small table next to his bed.

When they reached the Gryffindor Common Room, they did not split up. Hermione, instead, followed Harry up to the fifth-year boys' dormitory. It wasn't her first time in the room, but she was usually in there with Ron _and_ Harry; not _just_ the raven-haired wizard.

Hermione watched as Harry cleared some space off his night table, and set the frame down, turning it to face his bed so he would be able to look at it when he was lying down. Hermione almost did a happy dance, but she rather just sat down on the edge of his bed.

Harry sat down next to her. "Quite the day, huh?"

Hermione nodded. "Have you finished packing?"

Harry dropped his gaze. "Honestly, I haven't started," he admitted. "I, uh, I keep thinking that you're going to change your mind."

"I'm not going to," she assured him. "Neither will my parents, Harry. So, you should probably get your packing done, or do you need some help?"

"I think I can handle it," he said, blushing slightly.

At that, Hermione stood up. "I'll leave you to it then."

Harry took hold of her wrist to stop her. "I said I can handle it, Hermione; not that I wanted you to leave. Just sit here and keep me company, will you?"

Hermione sat back down and let out a breathy laugh. "All right then, get stepping, Mr Potter. I don't have all day." She watched his face break out into a grin and then she was watching as he bustled about the room, packing his trunk. She shifted on his bed until she was sitting up against his pillows.

Harry couldn't even explain what he felt as he watched her get comfortable on his bed. She kicked off her shoes and then brought her knees up to her chest.

"Do you have a pen?" she asked.

"In the drawer," he said, bending to pack his shirts on one side of his trunk. Because of it, he missed Hermione's reaction to what she found in his bedside drawer. It was filled with all sort of things; things that Hermione would have to call _trinkets_. She spied several notes that they'd passed to one another throughout the years, a few wizard cards from chocolate frogs, an old hair ribbon of hers, a ticket stub from the Quidditch World Cup and so many other things that warmed her heart.

"Did you find one?" Harry asked, ripping her attention away from the contents of the drawer.

"Right here," Hermione said quickly, grabbing for a pen and shutting the drawer hastily.

Harry gave her a curious look before he smiled at the fact that she opened up one of the journals and started to write. She picked the journal that had a cover that was a picture of the aftermath of the mountain troll incident that solidified their friendship. There were a little Golden Trio standing innocently in front of Professor McGonagall with a troll lying flat on its back behind them, Harry's wand still stuck in its nose drawn on its cover. It wasn't exactly his favourite one, but he loved it nonetheless; especially seeing Hermione with it.

Harry continued with his trunk until he was satisfied it was sufficiently packed, with his clothes for the next day, and his pyjamas near the top. He stood awkwardly for a moment before he moved to sit down on his bed, right next to Hermione. He leaned into her and looked at what she was writing.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Hermione shifted the journal so he couldn't see the words. "I'm writing about today," she said, blushing slightly. "I've decided that this is going to be my new journal. My old one was almost full anyway."

Harry just stared at her, a little in awe.

Hermione seemed to catch herself, just realising what she'd said. "Oh, umm, yeah, I write in journals. Is that weird?"

He was quick to shake his head. "I think it's cool. How long have you been doing it?"

"Since I was eight."

Harry loved that there were still things that he could learn about her. "Do you write about every day?" he asked.

"I try to," she admitted. "I tend to go through two, maybe three per year, so these should last me quite some time."

Harry relaxed further into his pillows. "Do you ever write about me?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Hermione glanced at him. She was definitely not going to admit to him that very few noteworthy things that had happened in her life since she met him were not marked by him in some way. Both the good and the bad things. Everything.

"You don't have to tell me," he said quickly, sensing her hesitation.

"Well, it's not that," she confessed, blushing a deep red. "It's just, well, it's a little embarrassing because all I've really written about today involves you."

Harry smiled at her, nudging her gently with his elbow. "If it makes you feel any better, if I _did_ write in a journal; I would have written a lot about you as well. Probably _all_ about you, actually."

That just made her blush that bit more.

"Will you read me some?" he asked. "If you want to, that is."

Hermione took a deep breath. "All right, but you're not allowed to laugh."

Harry made a cross over his heart with his finger, and then closed his eyes. "You have my word, pretty girl."

Hermione just stared at his face for a moment, momentarily floored by the perfect line of his jaw. Merlin. When had _this_ happened to her? _Why_ had this happened? He was Harry. He was her best friend. She was _not_ supposed to be imagining what it would be like to touch his skin, or breathe him in.

Hermione cleared her throat. "'Lavender's scream woke me up this morning,'" Hermione began to read out loud. "'It was more like a squeal actually. Even though it was early, I wasn't all that angry because today was the day I would be giving Harry his present. I finally finished it last night, and I've been quite nervous around him since.'"

"I didn't notice," he commented, cutting in. "But that's probably because I've been deadly nervous around you as well."

Hermione giggled softly. "I didn't notice either," she admitted, and then started to read again. "Umm, I think I'll skip this part. Ah, here: 'Harry received another package this morning, which was confusing. He was smiling secretively all morning, and I swear he kept glancing at me.' Were you? Was I just imagining that?"

Harry chuckled. "I guess you'll just have to find out on Christmas morning."

Hermione flicked him with her finger. "Tell me you didn't get me another present."

Harry grinned, though he kept his eyes closed. "What if I told you that I got _us_ a present?"

She frowned. "I don't know what that means."

Harry pressed his lips together and said nothing.

Hermione huffed, but made no more comment on it. She would have to buy him an extra nice present now. Why did he have to make it so difficult? Hermione read over her words some more, skipping the part where she went on and on about how nice it felt to have him looking at her. How embarrassing.

She eventually continued. "'I didn't realise how worried I actually was until it was time to start handing out the presents. Imagine my surprise when I learned that we'd ended up picking each other. I think that my gift doesn't really measure up to his.'"

"That's not true!" he said hurriedly, his eyes flying open. "I love your gift! I think it's amazing!"

She blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh, okay."

"Please don't think otherwise," he said strongly. "Your gift means so much to me. _So_ much!"

Hermione gently touched his arm. "I hear you, Harry," she said gently. "But let it be known that I intend to get you another present, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Okay." They locked eyes for a moment, and Harry's heart started to race. She was so close, and she was so pretty.

Hermione broke their eye contact first, feeling overwhelmed by their proximity.

"Speaking of presents," he said, kicking his feet and moving to stand up. "Dobby!" he called out and, a moment later, the little elf appeared before him; grinning happily.

"Master Harry," Dobby said, already looking teary.

Harry waited a moment before he rushed to his trunk and pulled out a small, neatly-wrapped gift. He knelt down in front of Dobby. "I know you're going to be on call for us this holiday," he said softly. "But I don't know if I'll actually see you on Christmas Day, so I wanted to give you your present now."

Dobby blinked a few times. "For me?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Harry nodded. "For you, Dobby. You can open it now if you want."

Dobby hurriedly - and excitedly - opened the gift to reveal two pairs of mismatched socks and a knitted beanie. "Wow, Master Harry! Dobby loves, loves!"

Harry glanced at Hermione for a moment, and she was smiling widely. He looked at Dobby once again. "The socks are from me and, well, Hermione knitted the beanie for you," he explained. "See, it's even got holes for your ears." Harry helped Dobby place it on his head, and then the little elf launched himself at the wizard, suddenly sobbing as Harry gently pat his small back. Harry looked at Hermione over the top of Dobby's head and she looked _so_ amused.

"Thank you! Dobby thanks you and Master Harry's Hermy!"

That made Harry laugh.

Hermione glared at him for a moment before she smiled at Dobby when he _finally_ released Harry. "You're very welcome, Dobby," she said kindly. "I'm glad you like them. The hat really suits you."

"And it's red just like ours," Harry added.

It took a further five minutes to get Dobby to calm down fully, and then he insisted on bringing them hot chocolate from the Kitchens, for their _date_. Harry's eyes bulged at the inference, and Hermione blushed so hard, she had to bury her face in one of Harry's pillows to stop herself from screaming out loud.

That elf!

Harry hadn't even had the time to correct Dobby before he popped away, and then popped back with two cups of the warm beverage, and a plate of biscuits. If it wasn't a _date_ before; it seemed like it was one now. Harry felt nervous for a few minutes, but then he remembered that this was Hermione. She was his best friend above all else, and that wasn't scary. They'd been together through so much, and he was absolutely certain that, despite what happened to them or however they grew, they would always be friends. This evening wasn't going to change that.

Though, what _was_ terrifying - at least for the wizard - was that Harry decidedly hadn't actually wanted to correct Dobby.

And, frankly, neither had Hermione, but the boy wasn't to know that.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

He was painfully nervous.

Harry Potter couldn't bring himself to sit still as he and his friends claimed an entire compartment in the Hogwarts Express on the way back to London. Hermione kept having to put a hand on his knee to stop him from bouncing it.

"Seriously, Harry," she said, eyeing him. "Calm down; there's nothing to be worried about."

Despite the assurance in her words and in her tone; he didn't quite believe her. There were _so_ many things to be worried about. What if her parents didn't like him? What if they thought he was a bad friend to their daughter?

"Hey," Hermione said, cutting into his thoughts. "They're going to love you as much as I - " she halted. No. She was not about to bring _that_ word into their friendship. Wow. What was she thinking? "They're going to love you," she concluded. "I just know it."

Still not truly believing her, Harry still managed to nod his understanding. Hermione believed what she was saying, and that was more than enough for him.

All too soon, the train was pulling into King's Cross Station. The six friends said their goodbyes in the compartment, because the Station was bound to be busy, especially this close to Christmas. People were on their way home for the holiday.

It took Hermione quite a while to spot her parents. Well, _parent_. "There's my dad, Harry," she said, leading them through the crowd. They hadn't managed to find a trolley, so the two of them were lugging their trunks behind them. Hedwig's empty cage was perched on Harry's trunk. The snowy white owl would meet them at Hermione's house.

And Crookshanks was back at Hogwarts, enjoying Christmas with Hagrid. The half-kneazle had blatantly refused to leave the Castle, and Hermione wasn't going to bend over backwards to convince him until it was completely necessary.

"Hi, Dad," Hermione said, rushing to greet a rather tall man with dark hair, significant stubble and rectangular glasses. They hugged for a moment, before Hermione was beckoning Harry over, ready to introduce him to her father. "This is Harry," she said; "one of my best friends."

Michael Granger couldn't help his chuckle. His daughter was very enthusiastic about the word 'friend.' "I've heard quite a bit about you, Harry," Michael said, putting out a hand.

Harry shook the taller man's hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir," he said politely.

"Oh, Harry, please call me Michael," he said, his tone friendly and light. "But if my wife asks you, make sure to let her know that I told you to call me Mickey."

Harry smiled at him. "So noted, sir."

Hermione looked relieved. "Where's Mum?" she asked her father.

"She went in search of a trolley a few minutes ago," he said, rolling his eyes. So that's where Hermione got it from. "She probably ran into an old friend or something," he said, shaking his head.

Hermione nodded her understanding. Harry just found it all rather amusing.

Michael moved to take Hermione's trunk from her. "Shall we?"

Hermione nodded, before she glanced at Harry to make sure he was okay. When he smiled, the three of them set off to locate Hermione's mother.

As expected, Hermione spotted her mother talking to two other women. Hermione looked at Harry and shook her head.

"It's always like this," Hermione whispered. "She's such a socialite sometimes."

That bit of news was surprising to Harry, and it must have shown on his face because she did _the thing_ and rolled her eyes.

"I'll explain later," she said softly, cryptically.

"Oh God," Michael said over his shoulder. "If we don't put a stop to it now; she's going to end up inviting them over for dinner. All these strays that we keep picking up," he joked, gesturing towards Harry.

"Dad!" Hermione reprimanded, shaking her head and glaring at him.

Harry dropped his head, feeling his heart twist painfully. Was it too late to get back on the Express? He was sure that Hogwarts wouldn't mind having him back. He had _known_ that this would be a bad idea.

Harry was surprised when Hermione took hold of his hand and squeezed his fingers.

"He's just kidding, you know," she said softly. "His jokes aren't funny though. We've been trying to change his sense of humour since I was little. It clearly hasn't worked." She squeezed his hand again. "We want you here, Harry. All of us. I promise."

Harry looked at her to see the truth in her brown eyes.

She absently leaned into him. "Come on, let me introduce you to my mum."

For a moment, they locked eyes, and then she reluctantly released his hand. She spent another moment hesitating at his side, before she took off towards her mother, who finally noticed the approaching trio.

Harry watched as Hermione was enveloped in a loving hug, before her mother pulled back to study her daughter carefully. Critically.

"Is everything okay?" Jane Granger asked in a small voice, looking concerned by the slight frown on her daughter's face. "What did Dad do?"

Hermione stepped closer to her mother. "Harry's already worried that he's imposing, and Dad's jokes aren't helping."

Jane just nodded her understanding as she stood up straight and looked at Harry. "Hello, Harry," Jane said happily. "My name is Jane."

"Hi, ma'am," Harry said awkwardly, waving slightly. "It's really nice to meet you! Thank you very much for allowing me to visit you."

"Oh, of course, sweetheart," she said, stepping towards him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and frowned at the fact that he stiffened at the contact. She glanced at Hermione, who gave a small shake of the head, and Jane dropped her hand.

Hermione was going to have to have a conversation with both her parents when they got home. Goodness, did everything have to be so awkward already?

"Why don't we get going?" Michael offered, speaking up. He dropped Hermione's trunk onto the trolley that Jane had managed to find. "It's doubtful we'll miss the traffic. You kids up for some dinner in the city?"

"Oh yes!" Hermione said quickly, taking charge for both her and Harry. The wizard was too busy lifting his own trunk onto the trolley. "Do you think we can stop by Diagon Alley quickly?" she asked, as they finally started on their way. "I think Harry wants to visit Gringotts to get some money."

Harry gave her a grateful look.

"That sounds all right," Jane said. "Do you feel like Italian?" She looked at Harry. "Do you like Italian food, Harry?"

Harry blinked, suddenly unsure how to answer. The truth was that he'd never actually _had_ Italian food. Did macaroni and cheese count as Italian? He'd only ever eaten the hard crust of a pizza, _generous_ leftovers from his relatives. "Umm," he mumbled. "Sure."

Jane glanced at her daughter again and was surprised to see the soft look of understanding and anguish cross her daughter's face as she regarded the boy walking next to her. They definitely needed to have a talk.

"Then we'll go to Bardelli's," Michael declared, knowing that it was one of Hermione's favourite restaurants.

Hermione practically squeaked from her excitement. "Oh, Harry, you're going to love it," she said to Harry, bouncing slightly. "They have the best garlic bread, I think, in the entire world! And they have these amazing mocktails, which are cocktails but without all the alcohol."

Harry smiled at her, feeling some of his unease fall away. "You sound like a fan?"

"Do I?"

He laughed lightly, and Jane was forced to acknowledge that it was a reassuring sound. There was just something about the teenage boy's eyes that told her that they'd seen too much, and it was a relief to hear him laugh.

It was quite a mission leaving the Station but, once they were all safely tucked away in the family car - which Harry noted was a brand new Mercedes E-Class - they took off towards Diagon Alley. Harry and Hermione made small conversation in the backseat, absently discussing homework and Hermione's mother's prize-winning dessert pies.

"She makes the best ones," Hermione said proudly. "There's this festival market kind of thing that goes up in a park near our house, and they have all these stalls where you can buy food and gifts and all sorts of merchandise. They have raffles, and competitions, and a carousel." She was rushing through her explanation for Harry. "Sometimes they've got live music playing, and a little zoo for the younger kids. It's really quite lovely," she said dreamily, before snapping back. "Anyway, on Christmas Eve, they have a pie contest, yeah, and all the women come out to have their most famous pies judged. Mum has won six years in a row."

"We're looking for lucky number seven," Michael said, sounding about as proud as his daughter.

"Maybe Harry will be our good luck this year," Jane said, smiling at Harry through the rearview mirror.

Harry blushed.

Hermione smiled at him. "And then, after the contest is over, they have a pie-eating competition. It's completely fascinating and disgusting at the same time," she commented, shuddering slightly. "There's this kid, Reggie, who's literally stick-thin, and he won last year. I wasn't there to see it, so I'm still not entirely convinced."

"Why would I lie about that?" Michael asked.

"Do I even have to answer that?" Hermione shot back.

Michael frowned. "You wound me, oh daughter of mine," he said, finally smiling.

Hermione laughed at his antics, shaking her head. Wow, she'd missed her parents.

Harry just observed it all with a content smile on his face. He listened as Hermione told her parents about the latest happenings of school. When she mentioned that she and Harry had ended up picking each other for Secret Santa, Jane went on a bit about the probability of that happening, which made Hermione blush.

And when Hermione explained what Harry bought for her; it was his turn to blush. They were both beet red by the time the four of them entered the Leaky Cauldron. Harry kept his head down, desperately trying not to draw any attention to himself. He gave Tom a small greeting, and then they were on their way.

Gringotts, thankfully, was still open, and Harry was able to visit his Vault without too much trouble. He took out a substantial amount of money, majority of which he had converted into Muggle Pounds. He guessed that he would be doing the rest of his Christmas shopping in the Muggle World.

The way that Hermione talked about Bardelli's; one might think she was exaggerating, but she definitely wasn't. Harry didn't have much experience eating in restaurants, but he was quite sure that this one was lovely. He and Hermione sat quite close together as they pored over their menus, quietly discussing the many meals.

"You can get anything you want," Jane said to them both, though she was really saying it to Harry. "I had the seafood pasta the last time I was here," she said. "Anita, Lucy and I stopped for lunch after Court let out last week."

Hermione leaned towards Harry. "My mum serves as an expert witness for, umm, dental identification in criminal cases," she explained. "Anita is her personal assistant, and Lucy is the prosecutor who regularly calls on her."

Harry just nodded, feeling slightly intimidated.

Hermione pointed at something on her menu. "I think I'm going to have the chicken today," she said. "With gnocchi. Oh, I love gnocchi."

Harry just looked at her, clearly confused.

"It's a type of pasta, Harry," she explained patiently. "It's potato-based. Very tasty. I'll let you try some."

He nodded. "Is, umm, spaghetti bolognaise too boring?" he asked quietly.

Hermione frowned. "Is it what you want?" After his nod, she smiled. "Then of course not. It's one of their signature dishes here."

"I know how to make it," he informed her. "Just, well, I've never really eaten it, and Hogwarts serves us very English food."

Whenever he mentioned things that related to the life that he'd lived and continued to live with his relatives; Hermione's heart broke that bit more for him. She didn't expect him to talk about it, but she always needed him to know that he _could_ if he wanted to.

Once they'd placed their orders, Jane turned her attention to the teenagers. "So, Mick and I are working our last day before Christmas tomorrow," she said. "Do you think you two will be all right by yourselves?"

"We'll be fine, Mum," Hermione replied confidently. "We'll get started on our homework, won't we, Harry?"

Harry resisted the urge to groan. "Of course, Hermione," he said flatly, and both parents chuckled.

"She's a slavedriver, isn't she, Harry?" Michael asked. "It's why we love her."

Harry nodded, though he didn't voice his agreement. That would just give a name to a feeling he was yet to understand fully.

Jane spoke up next. "Will you be all right for lunch? There's leftovers from last night's dinner, but I don't know if you like Shepard's Pie." She looked at Harry. "Are you a fan?"

Again, Harry didn't know how to answer. If he were being completely honest, he'd have to admit that he wasn't a fan of mashed potato, but experience taught him to savour any and all food. Now, he couldn't exactly say that, could he?

Hermione saved him from a response. "We'll be fine, Mum," she said, seemingly ending all talk about food.

Conversation moved on to other things, and Harry enjoyed the lightness of it all. This was just an everyday family, talking about everyday things, and he was lucky to be able to witness it. They talked while they ate, joking about big and small things. It all put Harry at ease.

True to her word, Hermione had Harry try some of her meal, and she tried some of his. They enjoyed the other's so much that they made a mutual decision to trade dishes halfway through, which had the parents exchanging a significant look. Only someone who deeply cared about the other would agree to such a thing.

It was definitely proving to be an interesting holiday.

The drive to Oxfordshire took just over eighty minutes, during which both teenagers fell asleep in the backseat. They were both exhausted from the term as a whole, and the pasta surely didn't help. Jane had to shake them awake when they arrived at the Granger home, and they were both groggy and relatively unresponsive.

"I'll get the trunks," Michael told his wife, and then she ushered the teenagers into the house.

Harry tried to pay attention to where he was going, but he just couldn't. He was vaguely aware of being shown to a room that had two three-quarter beds. He saw flowers, and a lot of purple, before he was lying down, and someone was taking off his shoes. He was in this new, foreign place, and yet he'd never felt safer.

He felt a hand run through his hair, a small pat on his chest, and then the light went out.

Jane closed the door to the room in which Harry was probably already asleep, and went to her daughter's room to find her sitting on the edge of her bed, already dressed in her pyjamas. Truthfully, Hermione wasn't faring much better than Harry, but she was definitely more alert.

Hermione rubbed her eyes of sleep. "I don't even know why we're so tired," she said, yawning. But perhaps she did. They _were_ tired; tired of dealing with people who didn't believe Harry, tired of dealing with Professor Umbridge and her hit squad, tired of having to self-study for Defence Against the Dark Arts, tired of teaching others... just tired of a lot of things, and tonight was the first time they could actually relax.

"Don't you?" Jane asked curiously, moving to sit down beside her daughter.

Hermione blinked. "I don't know," she confessed. "This entire year has been quite hard."

"How awake are you? Do you think we can talk?"

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face, yawned again, and then focused her attention on her mother. "I assume you want to know about Harry?"

Jane nodded.

"He made me promise to be honest with you," she said. "He doesn't want you not to know that his being here puts you in danger, because there's a depraved psycho-wizard who's decided that he wants to kill Harry Potter."

Jane frowned, but decided not to say anything.

Hermione balked at her own phrasing. Things went a little awry when she was tired, apparently. "Mum, you know that Harry is an orphan, and the relatives that he stays with aren't kind to him at all."

"Do they...? Did they...?" she asked quietly.

"I think so," Hermione said sadly. "I don't know if they've ever been truly physical with him, but I know that they aren't affectionate at all, which is why he doesn't really respond that well to being touched by, well, strangers. They starved him, so he looks at food in an entirely different way. He values it all, so there isn't much that he _won't_ eat. For years, he lived in a cupboard under the stairs, and only received his own room after our first year, which really just turned out to be a fancy prison cell, because they locked him inside it. Ron and his brothers literally had to break him out before the start of our second year. Things have never been easy for him, but he still cares so much. About his friends, and our professors, and about - "

"You," Jane said softly.

Hermione fought a blush. "Last year, he was involved in this really dangerous tournament, and he saw some things; experienced things that have forced him to grow up faster than he should have. It's changed him somewhat. He's a lot angrier, and he internalises everything. I've tried to help him; to keep him with me, you know, but there are times when he goes out by himself to brood, and I just hate that he does that to himself. He blames himself for things that he has no control over, and I just - I just want to help him through it all."

"He's very important to you," Jane observed.

"Yes, Mum, he is."

Jane nodded, filing away all the information. "Okay, well, you should probably get some sleep as well," she said, standing up. "I'll have a talk with your father, all right?"

"Thanks, Mum," Hermione said, shifting so she could climb under the covers.

Jane started for the door, but stopped when Hermione called her name. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Thank you for letting him stay with us," she said sleepily. "I'd hate for him to be alone this Christmas."

"Of course," Jane said, switching off the room's light.

"Oh, and Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't be alarmed if you hear screaming coming from his room," Hermione said, closing her eyes and shifting until she was comfortable. "It's the nightmares. Between the two of us, we'll take care of it."

Jane was too surprised to formulate a response and, by the time she opened her mouth to speak; Hermione's breath had evened out, and the teenager was asleep. Jane just watched her daughter for a few moments before she disappeared from the room and went in search of her husband.

This was definitely going to be an interesting holiday.

* * *

He was too tired to dream.

Harry Potter's own exhaustion was all that saved him from a night filled with green lights and Cedric Diggory's cold, dead eyes. It didn't stop him from waking up at the crack of dawn though, and he panicked when he didn't know where he was. Thoughts of being kidnapped and walking out to find Death Eaters flooded his mind before he remembered the events of the previous day.

He was at Hermione's house. Her _house_ , with her parents. He felt his body relax, and he rolled over onto his side. The room was still quite dark, but he could make out a few shapes. He could see another bed across from him, which made him curious.

Harry couldn't get back to sleep so he just lay in bed until he heard the first signs of life. Silently, he climbed out of bed, tried to flatten his hair, and then left the room. He wasn't entirely sure _where_ he was in the house, but he followed the corridor towards the stairs, and then made his way down. It took him a moment more to find the kitchen, and then he was boiling the kettle for Hermione's parents.

Jane arrived to find a not-so-empty kitchen. She was surprised to find Harry, bed hair and all, poised over the toaster, just waiting for it to pop out. She spied freshly cut fruit, several _un_ cracked eggs on the counter next to the stove and the butter ready to be spread on the toast.

"Harry," she said softly, not wanting to scare him.

The boy still startled, turning sharply and his eyes bulging. He blinked a few times before he smiled nervously. "Good morning, ma'am," he said, croaking slightly. "Umm, Jane."

"You're up early," she said, moving further into the kitchen. She wasn't sure how to go about finding out why he was making breakfast without making him think that he'd done something wrong.

Harry shifted awkwardly. "Uh, umm, how do you like your eggs?" he asked eventually.

"Oh, Harry, you know you don't have to do all of this," she said gently. "You're _our_ guest, remember?"

"I know," he said vaguely. "But I don't know how else to thank you. This is the least I can do."

Jane was touched. "Okay, young man, but this is the first and last time," she said, smiling at him. "And I wouldn't mind a fried egg. But, when Mickey asks; we'll say that you already made it before I came down, all right?" She winked at him, and he grinned happily.

Michael Granger was about as surprised as his wife had been to find Harry Potter standing over his stove. His wife was hovering, watching closely in case the young wizard burned himself. Really, she needn't have bothered. Harry looked like a regular old professional, which confused Jane, and then angered her.

After a quick check with his wife, Michael asked for a scrambled egg, which Harry was only too happy to make. Once it was all ready, the three of them sat down at the kitchen table, but Harry wasn't eating.

"I'll wait for Hermione," he said, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"There's no telling when she'll wake up, Harry," Michael informed him. "If she's not up in an hour, you should just go ahead and eat something, all right? Or just wake her up."

Harry immediately shook his head. "I won't do that; she needs to sleep," he said hauntingly, and the parents exchanged a look. What atrocities were these kids going through at school?

"Okay, well, you should nibble on something then," Jane offered. "It might be lunch time by the time she opens her eyes."

Harry smiled. "I reckon if I were to get started on my homework, her Hermione senses would kick in and her eyes would fly open," he said teasingly.

Michael laughed, and Jane smiled.

Jane noted that he was a lot more open, even vocal, when he was comfortable, and she guessed that making them breakfast eased his mind slightly. There were things that she'd noticed the previous night, about the way he would lose himself at times, in a deep sadness, a quiet longing. She noticed him marvel at the little things, like Michael's teasing Hermione, or their asking for his opinions, like he wasn't used to being seen, or actually seeing _family_.

It was heartbreaking.

Jane told him to make himself comfortable and feel at home, before she and Michael left. She braved patting his shoulder again, and he seemed less surprised by it, but he did still stiffen.

"I'll call later to check on how things are going," she said. "I've left our office phone number by the phone if you need anything, okay?"

Harry nodded.

"And don't you start cooking dinner now, young man," she said, smiling at him.

"I can chop things for you, if you'd like," he still offered.

Jane relented, realising that he wanted to feel useful; like he was contributing in some way. "Just onions and tomatoes," she agreed.

"Done."

And then they were going, and Harry was locking the front door as instructed. The house suddenly felt so much bigger now that they were gone. Harry didn't immediately go upstairs. He returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up, and then he went exploring the downstairs. There were two living rooms, or lounges, a dining room, a large study - with about a million books - a scullery, and a door leading out to the perfect backyard. There was a large veranda with a sitting area, another dining table, and was that a pool table?

There was also a rather large pool, and some kind of jungle gym in the distance. It looked old, and Harry could just imagine little Hermione playing on it. The yard was quite large, with bright green grass peeking through the snow and trees a plenty. It looked like this family cared about the state of their garden enough not to pawn it out to teenage boys.

Harry didn't do much exploring when he went upstairs, mainly because he didn't want to wake up Hermione, and he didn't want to stumble into her parents' room by accident. He did, however, locate the bathroom, and he went for a nice hot shower, brushed his teeth and then got dressed. He tidied up his room, and was able to take it in properly in the light. It was themed purple, which didn't bother him in the slightest.

If he were being completely honest, he'd have to say that he rather liked it.

Once Harry was ready, he took out his Charms homework and then went downstairs to work on it at the kitchen table. He poured himself a glass of juice, and then proceeded to work until Hermione revealed herself.

It was almost two hours later when Hermione Granger finally rolled out of bed. She immediately went to check on Harry, panicked at the empty bed, and then rushed downstairs, only to find the wizard in question in the living room, watching a car show on the television. He didn't see her, and she let out a sigh of relief, before she turned and headed back upstairs to get ready.

The day itself was slow, and beautifully lazy. After the two of them ate breakfast, Hermione showed him around more thoroughly, taking him up her room. She'd been nervous, having him in there, but he was so nice about it, marvelling at all her pictures and posters, admiring all her ornaments and trinkets, and not commenting on her wall of books.

Harry truly loved her bedroom. It was just so _Hermione_ , and he loved that it was her favourite colour. Even the walls were painted a pale green. _Green_.

Hermione had them work on their homework until she started on lunch. Together, they made some sandwiches and then wrapped up nice and warm to eat them on the back veranda. Harry made them hot chocolate in a thermos, mainly because putting it in cups would make it _cold chocolate_ in next to no time.

They worked some more on their homework before Hermione suggested they stop. Harry made a big show of taking note of this monumental day, which made her giggle. She took them to the study so she could pick out a book to read.

"My parents buy new books all the time," she explained, perusing the shelves. "I get to read them when I get home."

Harry looked along with her. "Do you think they'd mind if I read one as well?" he asked quietly.

Hermione beamed at him. "Of course not! Do you see something you like, or do you want me to recommend something?"

Harry didn't know it then but he was about to ask a truly dangerous question: "Would you mind recommending something?"

Hermione spent the next hour going through all the books she thought he would love. She even dragged him upstairs to her room so she could go through some of her own books. Eventually, after much discussion, they both had suitable books to read - Hermione picked the first in one of her favourite series of books for Harry to read - and they settled down in one of the living room's couches, with festive music playing in the background.

They were quiet for the longest of time, before Harry decided to break it, something important playing on his mind.

"Say, Hermione?" he sounded, his voice a little shaky.

She turned to look at him, giving him her full attention. "What's up, Harry?"

He looked away for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed. She had a habit of doing that. Didn't she know how bewildering it was to have her full focus? "I know it'll probably be a lot of work, and you can totally say no if you want to but, well, I was wondering if, you know, we could - "

"We could what, Harry?" she asked, helping him along.

"I mean, I know I was pretty much asleep but, uh, well, I remember seeing a children's home when we were coming in, and I was wondering if we could, well, visit at some point. Whenever you're free, of course, if that's okay?"

Hermione regarded him for a moment, her heart breaking for him. "When did you have in mind?" she asked gently, and he brightened up immediately.

"Christmas Eve, some time," he said quickly. "I thought we could take some biscuits, maybe some sweets, and I could buy some toys," he rushed, getting excited. "They'd love that. I doubt they get many, if any, presents at all."

Hermione reached for his closest hand and squeezed it tightly, letting him know that she understood. Or she was desperate to try.

Hermione suspected that there were things that Harry experienced with his relatives that he wouldn't tell her, but her own educated guesses told her that the things he didn't tell her weren't good.

Harry squeezed her hand in return, grateful that he didn't have to explain the reasons why he wanted to visit the home.

"I'll have to talk to my parents," Hermione informed him. "We can even bake the biscuits."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Hermione?"

"What?" she asked innocently. "I can bake."

"Can you really?"

"I can follow a very precise recipe," she said proudly. "I think my Potions skills have proven that."

Harry just smiled. "Okay then."

Hermione did the mature thing and stuck her tongue out at him. "I can so bake," she said one last time, and then returned to her book as if the conversation hadn't even happened.

Harry watched her for a moment, smiled gently, and then returned to his own book. Harry enjoyed moments like this. Moments of silence, where the two of them could just exist in each other's presence. Neither of them had the need to fill the space with words, and Harry loved it. Really, he loved everything about being at home with Hermione. As much as he loved the Burrow; he preferred the quiet.

At a certain point, Harry left her to go to the kitchen, where he started on the onions and tomatoes. He placed them in separate containers, and then put them in the fridge. He didn't know what Jane intended to cook, so there wasn't much he could do. His eyes were red when he returned to the living room, and Hermione looked concerned until he told her the reason. Then she just slapped his forearm.

"You know you don't have to do that," she reprimanded gently.

"I want to," he said defensively.

Hermione sighed. "Fine, okay, but just remember that it's not expected of you, all right?"

Harry nodded. He didn't feel like returning to his book, so he decided to lie down. Hermione noticed what he was doing, and put a pillow against her legs for him to rest his head. He looked at her for a moment, asking the question. She just nodded, and then he lay down, propping his feet up over the armrest.

One day in and Harry never wanted to leave. Really, he never wanted to _move_ from this position.

Harry was, however, forced to move when Hermione's parents got home. They happily greeted the teenagers, and Harry was even given his first Jane-hug that made him tense. Jane decided that it wasn't that he was against being hugged; it was just that he wasn't used to it. Between her and Hermione; the boy would end up initiating them by the end of this holiday.

Harry offered Jane his help in the kitchen, and she didn't refuse. She wanted to get to know this charming young man better. She _had_ to, she suspected, because her daughter seemed quite taken with him. Jane trusted her daughter's judgment, but this was the first boy Hermione had truly shown any semblance of real interest in. Sure, she'd written about a Viktor, and maybe mentioned a Ron, but Harry was always in the forefront of her letters and her stories about school.

Jane ended up making a mild lamb curry, that had Harry a little fascinated. They ate it with white rice and a green salad that Harry made. Hermione was tasked with setting the table, and Jane nominated Michael to do the dishes afterwards.

"He's useless in the kitchen," Hermione told Harry. "Really, the only thing he does well, is soup. He's a master at it."

Harry knew that she said it because she knew that he liked soup. Loved it, actually, though she never did quite find out the true reason why. If Harry had a choice, he probably wouldn't ever tell her.

Once they were all settled down for dinner, Hermione mentioned Harry's idea of visiting the children's home, and Jane said that it was a brilliant idea. The praise made Harry blush and he ducked his head. The more Jane talked about it, though, the more Harry's confidence grew.

"We can get some things when we hit the shops tomorrow," Jane offered.

Harry spoke up. "I was thinking maybe some football balls, maybe some plastic goals. Cricket sets maybe, and some dolls," he listed, clearly showing that he'd spent some time thinking about it. "Colouring books as well, and crayons." He fell silent. "I, uh, I have extra money," he said quietly.

Hermione's shake of her head stopped either of her parents from protesting. It was going to take him more than a day for him to ease up. She'd forgot to tell her parents that, despite his hand-me-down clothes and relatively dishevelled look; Harry was incredibly rich. Even _he_ didn't know how much money he had.

So it was decided. They would brave the last-minute shoppers on the last Saturday before Christmas, or die trying. Harry had to laugh at the way that Michael made it sound like they were about to do battle.

"It's a War zone out there, Harry," he said, smirking. "We have to be prepared."

"In other words," Hermione said; "he's trying to say that we're going to have to pack snacks."

Harry laughed. "I take it the lines are really long."

"We'll need a game plan," Jane said.

Harry liked this. He liked sitting down as a family and discussing the actual day, and what they wanted to do the next day. This was the kind of thing he wanted for his own family. A family that he was determined to have one day.

If he survived Voldemort.

After dinner, Michael saw to the dishes while Jane, Hermione and Harry settled in to watch a Christmas movie in the larger living room. Hermione brought down some blankets and extra pillows, and she and Harry made a sort of palace of blankets on the carpeted floor.

Jane watched as they shifted in nice and close, their shoulders touching and arms entangled under the blankets. Jane could tell that, despite Hermione's now obvious feelings - at least to her mother - for the young wizard; the witch was determined to be the friend he needed first. Jane was always proud of her daughter, but she felt even prouder now.

Michael eventually joined them, raising an eyebrow at the picture he found on the floor. His wife merely beckoned him towards her, intent on getting her own snuggle; and the four of them enjoyed the rest of their Friday night.

As a family.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

She woke up earlier than him on Saturday morning.

Hermione Granger was able to check in with Harry long before he woke up. She spent the early morning in the kitchen with her mother. They discussed presents, and they discussed Harry. Jane had many questions, but Hermione wasn't really comfortable answering all of them.

There were things that Hermione couldn't tell her mother, mainly because she knew that her parents would take drastic action with regards to her safety. If they knew just what she'd been through, then they would have pulled her out of Hogwarts a long time ago. And Hermione wouldn't stand for that. Not now. Not when Harry needed her.

It wasn't that Hermione _enjoyed_ lying to her parents - she likened omitting things to lying at this point - but it was something she deemed necessary. She would come clean when it was all over and hope that they understood why she'd made the decisions she had.

 _Harry_.

It was always going to be about Harry.

The wizard in question arrived in the kitchen, fully dressed, a few minutes later, and Hermione couldn't help smiling at the sight of him. He looked well-rested, relaxed, and he was grinning happily. Hermione stepped up to hug him good morning, and whispered in his ear.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked, referring to his nightmares.

"Just one," he whispered back, releasing her. "I'm fine."

And then it was Jane's turn to hug him, and Harry was less surprised this time. She even ruffled his hair and asked the question of whether it always looked this messy, which made Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

"I've tried," he confessed. "I've given up at this point."

"I quite like it," Hermione said, and then balked at her own confession. Did she really say that out loud?

"Well, _you_ would," Jane said, laughing at her daughter's horrified expression.

The entire exchange merely confused Harry, and he was relieved to see Michael enter the kitchen, a happy smile on his face and a slight bounce in his step. He ruffled Harry's mess of hair before he kissed the top of Hermione's head. Harry watched as he strolled through the kitchen towards his wife, and greeted her lovingly.

Harry looked away to offer them a private moment, and found Hermione looking at him.

"It's always like this," she mouthed to him, rolling her eyes.

He moved towards her. "You don't think you'll be like that when you're married?"

The question seemed to stun her, and she wasn't sure how to respond. Not when it was Harry Potter asking her that question. Thankfully, Hermione was saved from a response by her father.

"So, are we ready for war?" he asked, making fists of both his hands and practically flexing.

They ate breakfast quickly, and then they were on their way. Jane made sure that both teenagers were bundled up nice and warm before she sent them out to the car. Harry felt a little overwhelmed by how much she seemed to care about him already, as well how small of an action was needed to show it. All she did was tighten the scarf around his neck and he was a total goner.

For the most part, they drove in silence. Harry just watched as the houses gave way to larger buildings, and then they were pulling into a shopping mall. The parking lot was practically filled to capacity and Michael drove around for a full minute before Hermione spotted a car pulling out.

As discussed, the four of them split up for the first two hours, Harry and Hermione together, and then Michael and Jane as the other pair. They would do their shopping, and then meet up for something warm to drink before splitting up in a different combination of pairs. That part was a little daunting for Harry, but he didn't mention that to anyone.

Harry and Hermione set off one way, and her parents set off in another. Harry had spent quite some time trying to figure out what to get for Hermione's parents, but he needed Hermione's help. She would know what they liked better than anyone.

"I need to go to a clothing shop," Hermione informed him. "I buy my dad a tie every year," she explained. "It's a weird Christmas tradition we have. Because he deals with more of the junior patients at the dental practice, he has all these truly goofy ties, and I love picking them out for him."

Harry loved hearing about her family's traditions. She'd told him about their tradition of opening one present each on Christmas Eve, and that they had waffles on Christmas morning before they went to church. Hermione told him that he didn't have to go with to morning mass if he didn't want to, but he said he wanted to experience it all.

Harry worried that he didn't have clothes suitable for church, so he made a mental note to pick something up while they were in that clothing store. He had to admit that it was actually quite fun picking out ties. They had all sorts of funny patterns, and cartoon characters. Harry seemed to love them so much that Hermione decided to come back later and pick one up for him.

Harry bought a pair of black trousers and a pale green shirt for himself, and he bought a soft green, cashmere scarf for Jane. Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to force herself not to comment on the price. Harry noticed, and he couldn't help but smile. If she only knew how much he'd already spent on _her_.

"Your dad smokes, right?" Harry asked her as they walked through the crowded mall.

"He smokes pipes," she clarified. "He thinks it makes him look cool, and it's a very gentlemanly thing to do, apparently."

"So you're against my getting him something to fuel that lovely habit of his?" he asked cautiously.

Hermione spent a moment thinking about it. "He'll probably love whatever you get him, so no, I'm not against it." It looked like it pained her to say so, and Harry couldn't resist nudging her slightly as they walked, which made Hermione, somewhat bravely, link her arm with his.

Harry couldn't ignore the warm feeling that settled over his entire body. He never wanted this moment to end.

After Harry bought Michael a new pipe and some tobacco, Hermione suggested they stop by a book shop. He groaned good-naturedly, and she just rolled her eyes. He noted that she tended to do that a lot more when she was at home. She just appeared a lot more at ease now, and he had to admit that he liked it on her. She seemed lighter, less burdened, and he wondered what it was about Hogwarts that always put her on edge.

His mind even took him so far as to think that _he_ was the problem.

But then she would look at him, a happy smile on her face, and all his worries would fall away. He saw so much in her eyes that it overwhelmed him. How could eyes say so much?

With forty-five minutes to go before their scheduled meeting-up time, Harry practically had to drag Hermione out of the book shop. She'd collected a few books, which she asked one of the clerks to set aside for her, because she _would_ be coming back.

Harry led them to a large toy store, and Hermione could only watch in mild fascination as the boy went a little crazy. He dropped things into the trolley like it was going out of fashion. He chose all sorts of sports' toys, different sized dolls, various puzzles, colouring books, crayons, board games, reading books and _a lot_ of wrapping paper. Just being able to watch him literally being a kid in a toy store - shopping for toys that weren't even going to be his - made her heart melt. If she wasn't sure of the depths of her feelings towards him before; Hermione was quite certain of them now.

 _She loved him_.

She was dangerously in love with Harry Potter.

Harry insisted on paying for it all, but Hermione forced in her own contribution, as well as extra Pounds that her parents had given her for this precise moment. Harry eventually relented, quickly realising that this was better as a group thing. They'd be too much attention on him if it wasn't.

The teenagers ended up arriving a little late to meet Hermione's parents, and both Michael and Jane started at the number of toys they'd bought, though they didn't comment. The four of them sat and enjoyed some coffee - for the parents - and hot chocolate for the teenagers. Michael tried to sneak looks into Hermione's bags, but she whined at him to stop, making them all laugh.

"So we'll go me and Hermione, and then Mick and Harry next," Jane said as she finished her own coffee. "How does that sound?"

Harry did his best not to panic. It would be fine. He would be okay.

Michael addressed them next. "Why don't you all pop your bags in the trolley? Harry and I will rush out to the car to put them in the boot for now."

Hermione looked sceptical. "Promise you won't peek?"

"Hermione," he said, exaggerating a gasp. "How could you even think I would do such a thing?"

Hermione turned to Harry. "You'll tell me if he looks, won't you?"

Harry's eyes widened. There was no way he was about to get between father and daughter. Hermione was his best friend, but he also wanted Michael to like him.

Hermione laughed, absently touching his forearm. "Don't worry, Harry," she said gently, before turning to look at her father. "I _will_ know, Michael Granger," she said sternly.

"So noted, princess," Michael said, tilting his head to the side. "Shall we?"

It had started to snow since they'd gone into the mall and, for a moment, Harry lost his bearings. With the ground almost covered, Michael was unable to locate the car based on the painted numbers on the concrete.

"Any ideas?" Michael asked Harry, shivering slightly.

"On the left side," Harry said, remembering. "We parked next to that beat-up white Buggie."

Michael immediately started towards the left and, ten minutes later, they finally found the car, which was almost blanketed in snow. "Do you want to start putting things in the boot?" Michael asked the wizard; "while I try to make sure that we're not completely buried by the time we're done with the shopping."

Harry just nodded, as he moved all their bags from the trolley into the boot of the car. He could just see Michael using the sleeve of his coat to wipe snow off the top of the car. It wasn't yet sticking, which was a relief. Harry did the top of the boot cover when he was finished, and then the two headed back into the warmth of the building.

They were both shivering.

"If I ever suggest anything as stupid as that; just shoot me," Michael said, dusting snow off himself. Once he was satisfied with himself, he checked that Harry was sufficiently snow-free. "Let's not tell Jane or Hermione about this," he suggested, and Harry had to agree.

They started to walk, needing to keep moving to warm themselves up.

Michael broke the silence. "So, I've pretty much got Jane sorted. I think I might buy her a perfume, and Hermione, well, I usually get her a book voucher, and a new poster for her wall. Maybe you can help me pick out which poster."

Harry nodded, content to follow.

"And I assume you'd like to get something for Hermione."

Harry bit his bottom lip. "Well, sir, I've actually already got Hermione's gift," he explained. "I bought it before we left Hogwarts."

Michael glanced at him. "Is it anything good?" he asked conspiratorially.

Harry blinked. "It's, uh, it's a watch, sir."

Michael regarded him carefully, realising that there were some things he just couldn't joke about with this young man. Not yet, at least. "I hope it's analogue," he said kindly. "All the best ones are."

"A digital one wouldn't work at school," Harry informed the man, easing up slightly. "But you're right; analogue is the best."

Michael noticed that it took Harry quite some time to get comfortable with just him, and he wondered if it was because he was still somewhat a stranger, or if it was because he was an older _man_. There were times that Michael noticed a flash of fear in the boy's eyes, as if he were afraid that Michael would hurt him in some way if he said or did anything wrong.

Based on what he'd learned from his wife and Hermione about Harry's life until now; Michael wasn't sure his thoughts were that far from the truth.

Harry had to steer them to a different book shop, because it wouldn't do to shop for Hermione in the book shop to which she claimed she would be returning. They spent quite some time going through the many posters on offer, both of them discussing the football teams and all the movies.

Harry, admittedly, didn't watch enough television or movies to have many opinions, but what he'd caught on his relatives' screen from time to time allowed him to hold his own in the conversation.

"Hermione loves _Back To the Future_ ," Michael said. "I think it's the science, but who knows these days with teenage girls? They develop crushes all the time."

Harry did not respond to that bit of information. Just lumping the words 'Hermione' and 'crushes' made his heart race. Did she...? Could she have a crush on someone, and he didn't even know? It was definitely possible. She'd managed to keep her time-turner hidden for a full year; Harry was sure she could hide a crush.

But he had to know.

Harry knew he couldn't just ask her outright. Could he?

Michael purchased a substantial book voucher for Hermione. "It's just easier this way," he elaborated. "Jane and I can just let her loose in the shop without having to worry about what she may or may not like, or what she might already have read."

"She has quite a collection," Harry commented.

"That isn't even half of it," he said. "That's just since she started at Hogwarts. The rest, from when she was younger, is in the attic. She cried for hours when we told her we'd boxed them up, but she won't part with them. She says she'll give them to her kids. She just gets so attached sometimes; each book carrying with it a certain memory that she'll always cherish."

Harry listened intently. He loved learning more and more about Hermione, especially the Hermione before he met her. He just wished that he could have known her then. Maybe if they'd been friends _before_ ; their lives would be different.

"Ah, there they are," Michael said, coming to a stop. "Three o'clock."

Harry looked to his right to see Jane and Hermione window-shopping a little way's away. They had significant bags with them, but they didn't look like they were looking for anything specific.

"You reckon we should follow them?" Michael asked, sounding mischievous.

For a moment, Harry was floored. The glint in Michael's eye suddenly reminded him of the Weasley twins, and he was forced to shake his head to rid his mind of the thought.

"You're right," Michael agreed, reading his head-shake as something else. "Hermione will definitely find out, and I'm getting too old to figure out how to avoid her retaliation."

Harry blinked. "She _is_ quite sneaky, isn't she?"

"I don't know where she gets it," he said, turning them away from the girls. "She can be terrifying sometimes. Especially when it comes to things that are important to her. The problem is, though, that sometimes she puts importance in things that don't deserve it, you know? Or things that are out of her control. She's been heartbroken a few times because of it."

Harry tried to think back on what Michael could possibly be talking about. She'd placed importance in the Secret Santa being run the right way, but he suspected that she did that for his benefit. And then there was the DA. That was important to _all_ of them, but he knew she made its secrecy doubly important because she knew that _he_ would suffer the brunt of the punishment if they were ever found out.

And, all at once, Harry realised that Michael was referring to _him_. Hermione placed an incredible amount of importance in him; something she couldn't possibly control, and Michael was worried that Harry would end up breaking her heart because of it.

Michael noticed the moment that the realisation hit Harry, and he had to admit that he was surprised at how quickly the young man had caught on. Really, Michael would have been fine if Harry didn't realise what he'd been talking about, but the fact that Harry _had_ clearly meant that the young man was already worried about the possibility of one day hurting Hermione in some way.

Harry looked at Michael. "She's my best friend, sir," he said, his voice clear but low in volume. "She is very important to me; the _most_ important, and I wouldn't ever hurt her willingly. But that isn't to say that I might, unwillingly, or accidentally hurt her. I'm only human, and nobody knows that more than Hermione."

Michael nodded. "Just so you know."

Harry nodded back. "I know," he said strongly. "Trust me, I know."

When they met up with the girls much later, Michael and Harry were back to easy banter. Something had been said, discussed, accepted and fully understood without the true words having to be said aloud.

"Everything go okay?" Hermione asked him quietly, as the four of them searched for somewhere to have some lunch.

"Great," he said truthfully. "Now, tell me, what did you get for me?"

Hermione shook her head. "Na ah," she said, wagging a finger. "Don't even start with me, Potter."

Harry bat his eyelashes and exaggerated a pout. "Oh, but please, pretty girl; I'm asking so nicely."

"Oh no you don't," she said, huffing. "Don't think you can use those perfect eyes and that cute face to get to me."

Harry stiffened, and then he laughed. "I'm sorry... Did you just say _perfect_ eyes, and _cute_ face?"

Hermione's eyes widened, her own face turning beet red. She was about to play it off as nothing, but decided against it. He looked too smug for that, and she had to bring him down a peg or two. "Well, yes, Harry, I did. Got a problem?"

It was his turn to sputter and blush. "Oh."

She winked at him. "Now, what was it you were asking me again?"

Harry huffed. "You're mean, did you know that?"

She grinned at him. "Just wait until you see what I bought for you."

Harry didn't respond. Really, he _couldn't_. She was so... playful, and it was making his head spin. He had to remind himself that this was Hermione. Merlin, this _was_ Hermione, and he had the sudden urge to... to what?

"This place looks good," Jane said, cutting into Harry's thoughts before they made him say or do something stupid. "Not too full either."

As he sat beside Hermione at the table, Harry couldn't help but feel _charged_. Something happened; something of which he had to take note. It quickly became very clear to him that they were _not_ at Hogwarts. These kinds of things didn't happen in a Wizarding boarding school in freezing Scotland.

They watched all the other shoppers pass them by. It amazed Harry that there were so many people in this world, with their own crazy lives. Harry was just one person in more than seven billion people on Earth. It truly was a sobering thought.

As soon as they got home, which proved to take a considerable amount of time, given that it was still snowing and the roads were still being ploughed, they were all quick to claim their own bags of shopping before any of the others could start peeking at the contents.

Harry rushed up to his room to deposit his personal gifts before he and Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon wrapping gifts for the children's home. Jane eventually had to coax them into helping her bake biscuits for the home. She set them to decorating the Christmas Tree shaped biscuits and the Gingerbread Men. By the end of it, the three of them were covered in different coloured icing, flour and Harry swore he had crumbs in places he didn't even know existed.

"If we thought your hair was a mess before," Jane commented, laughing as Harry tossed some flour at Hermione, who gasped.

"Mr Potter," she hissed. "Do you know how difficult it's going to be to get this out of _my_ hair?"

"I think it suits you," he said, and then had to avoid a dollop of icing being thrown his way. "Hey hey," he said smugly. "Seeker, here, thank you very much."

"Oh, I'm _very_ determined."

Jane just laughed. "As long as some of it ends up on the biscuits, I'm not fazed," she said, and then immediately regretted speaking at all when Harry and Hermione both turned to look at her with matching mischievous grins. "Oh no you don't," she said, stepping back and putting her arms out, as if she could somehow ward off an attack.

Michael's arrival was all that saved her. He had his hand clamped over the end of the receiver of the house phone, and his eyes widened at the sight of them. "You know," he said; "I don't even want to know." Then he looked at Jane. "Martin has tickets to Arsenal/QPR on Tuesday," he said. "Can I go? Possibly take the wizard with me for some good luck?"

Jane looked at Harry. "That okay with you?"

Harry looked confused. "Umm?"

Hermione turned to him. "Dad's friend, Martin, has tickets to a football match. Arsenal versus Queens Park Rangers on Boxing Day. Would you like to go with?"

Harry nodded in understanding, and then grinned widely. "Oh yes, definitely!"

"Great!" Michael said, and then disappeared from the kitchen before it was his turn to be iced.

Jane looked at the teenagers. "I believe you two have about two dozen more biscuits to do," she said, standing up straight. "And don't you dare come at me with those hands of yours."

"Why is it that you keep giving us ideas, Mum?" Hermione asked, that playful tone back in her voice.

All Harry could do was stare at her and thank his lucky stars that he got to see this side of her. He couldn't help thinking that she was positively lovely. Anybody who said or thought otherwise was an idiot. A complete and utter fool.

Once the biscuits were done and safely packed away, the three of them went about cleaning up the kitchen while they sent Michael out to get dinner. Nobody felt like cooking tonight.

"Okay, you two, upstairs and get cleaned up," Jane instructed, shooing the teenagers. "I don't want to see any icing when you get back."

As they were leaving the kitchen; Harry put an arm around Hermione's shoulders and rubbed his cheek against hers, mixing blue and pink icing.

"Harry!" she shrieked, struggling to get away from him.

He just laughed as he watched her rush up the stairs, eager to get away from him. He took his time heading up the stairs and disappeared into the bathroom. He got undressed in the shower so that the icing would fall onto the shower tray. He shook off his clothing before he set the items aside. The water washed away all the icing and Harry had to wash his hair twice to get out all the flour.

Harry got dressed into his pyjamas and then he went looking for Hermione. He wasn't sure what it was but he just felt like annoying her. Or flustering her. Whichever came first. Harry knocked on Hermione's bedroom door and waited for her to tell him it was all right to go in.

He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her damp hair and grimacing as she encountered painful tangles.

"Hey you," she said, smiling at him.

Harry loved her bedroom. He'd told her many times but, for the first time, he was sure that he loved it because it had Hermione in it. She seemed so peaceful, so at ease in here that he didn't ever want her to leave this place.

"Let's take a look at you," she said, studying him critically. "Any icing?"

"There was _so_ much," he said, moving to lie down on his back on the carpet by her feet. "I swear it was in places I didn't even know it could get to, Hermione," he said, staring up at her. "Honestly, can you explain to me how I could have possibly got icing under my armpits?"

Hermione giggled.

"My _armpits_ , Hermione! How does that even happen?"

"That sneaky icing," she teased. "What are we ever going to do?"

He faked a glare. "You aren't taking me seriously."

"What gave me away?"

Harry flicked a finger against her shin. "You really are your father's daughter, aren't you?"

Hermione laughed. "I really am," she agreed. "My mum hates it. Always calls me a traitor whenever I take his side."

Harry looked at her. "You sounded awfully confident when you were talking about the football match," he pointed out. "Are you a fan?"

"I don't really _watch_ ," she admitted; "At all. It's why my dad didn't even bother asking if I wanted to go, but I suppose I support Arsenal because of him. His entire family supports them because they're from that part of London. I was mainly interested in all the statistics of the entire league, and I've always been rather fascinated by the physics behind kicking a ball and getting it to bend through the air."

"Okay, now you're back to being your mother's daughter."

She laughed out loud at that, gently tapping his chest with a socked foot. "Do you really think I'm more like her that him?"

Harry spent a moment thinking about it. "I do, yeah. You remind me of your mother, rather than your father."

Hermione smiled at him. "She's always been a bit of an overachiever," she said, her voice sounding distant, but holding a lot of pride. "I don't even know half of the things she does, you know? I know that she took time off when she had me, but she went back to work when I was five, which was when I started school. She's incredibly driven, always busy and sometimes difficult to talk to because she burns herself out more often than not."

Harry couldn't really picture the Jane Granger that Hermione was describing. But, then again, it _was_ Christmas.

"She's part of all sorts of boards, making important decisions. She runs the dental practice, maintaining everything about it, including the other dentists and their various employees. She's amazing, Harry. If I managed to accomplish even half of what she has; I'd be happy."

Harry looked at her seriously. "Is that why you try so hard?" he asked quietly. "Why you work yourself sick, and always strive for more? Because you feel you have to, because of your mother's success?"

Hermione spent a moment thinking about it. "I think I just want to make her proud," she finally said. "I want to make them both proud, and I don't know if I'm doing that because they don't truly understand the Wizarding World."

"I'll tell them," he said. "I'll make sure that they know to be proud of you every single day."

"Thank you, Harry," she said, her heart swelling. He really was just such a _great_ guy, and Hermione knew that she was going to have to deal with whatever she was feeling some time soon, but _now_ definitely wasn't it.

They locked eyes, and Hermione was tempted to reveal it all right then and there. There was just something about the striking green that threw her off and, as soon as she opened her mouth -

"Harry! Hermione! Dinner's here!" Jane yelled from downstairs, and Hermione forced herself not to sigh.

Harry got to his feet slowly, groaning like an old man just to make her laugh. He put out his hand for her to take, helping her stand up. He absently reached for a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. "I never quite realised how soft it was," he said, sounding rather fascinated.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just hair, Harry."

"That may be so," he agreed; "but it's _your_ hair."

Hermione just stared at him for a moment, before she shook her head and started to lead the way out of the room. "You are so weird."

* * *

He had terrible nightmares.

Harry Potter woke up with a start when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His arms flailed in his panic, but then warm, soothing hands were on his the sides of his face and he instantly calmed down.

"You're okay, Harry," Hermione said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin. "You're okay."

Harry stared up at her, blinking wildly. "You're here?" he croaked. "You're not hurt?"

Hermione bent so she could hug him. "I'm okay," she said. "You're okay."

Harry clutched at her. Tightly. Like he was holding on for dear life. He didn't release her when she tried to pull away. "Stay," he whispered, and Hermione had to force herself not to react. "Please."

"Okay," she said, still trying to sit up. "I'll be right here," she said, indicating to the second bed in the room. "I think my parents would have heart attacks if they ever found us like this."

Harry managed a smile at that, and he shifted until he was sitting up against the headboard.

Hermione squeezed his hands comfortingly, and then switched to the other bed. She lay down on her side so she could look at him. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Harry shook his head. Then he sighed. "I was in Little Hangleton," he said quietly, shuddering. "But, instead of being there with Cedric; I was there with _you_ , and..." he trailed off. "I - Hermione..."

Hermione reached across the space between the two beds with her hand. "Here," she said. "Feel it. I'm right here."

Harry settled in on his side as well, and hooked his fingers with Hermione's, letting her warmth wash over him. She was right here. She was _right here_.

That was how Jane found them in the morning. They were both asleep, but their fingers still linked in the space between the two beds. As heartwarming as the sight was, she knew that the reason Hermione came in here was Harry's nightmares. She'd heard sounds in the middle of the night, but they'd stopped quickly enough. Perhaps Hermione was just more in tune with the sounds of Harry's anguish.

Jane didn't like the fact that Harry suffered the kind of nightmares that made him cry out the way he did, but she was heartened by the fact that he had Hermione to help him through them.

She padded across the room towards her daughter, and gently shook her awake.

Hermione started, and then gasped, the memories of the night before flooding her mind. "Mum," she said aloud.

Jane placed a finger over her own mouth to keep Hermione quiet. "Come on," she whispered, tugging her daughter up. "I think you and I have to have another little talk."

Hermione just nodded as she released Harry's hand and allowed her mother to pull her up into a standing position. She stretched her arms up in the air, feeling her joints click. She cast a worried look down at Harry before she followed her mother out of the room.

Jane led the way to Hermione's bedroom and watched as her daughter climbed into her own bed and shifted until she was comfortable. Jane sat down on the edge of the bed and steeled herself for the conversation they were about to have.

"How often does he have nightmares?" Jane asked, cutting straight to it.

Hermione took a deep breath. "It depends," she replied. "Some days, he's more susceptible to them, but he gets them nearly every night," she explained. "They're different, most of the time, but last night he dreamt about me."

Jane blinked. "Oh."

Hermione sighed. "Do you remember that Tournament I told you that Harry was involved in?"

Jane nodded.

"Well, it was the first time that they were running the Tournament in a really long time because, well, the last time, a student died," she said carefully. "Because of that, they raised the age limit on the entrants to seventeen."

Jane frowned. "But isn't Harry fifteen?"

"It was part of some plot to get him entered into the Tournament," she responded flatly. "Dumbledore let it happen, and Harry almost died too many times than I'm comfortable saying out loud." Hermione had to sit up for this part, tears springing to her eyes. "The last Task, he was taken somewhere and forced to participate in a Ritual that brought back the monster that killed his parents." Her voice caught. "And - and Harry watched a fellow student die right in front of him."

Jane gasped.

"Voldemort - I told you about Voldemort - he sometimes makes Harry _see_ things, which fuels his dreams. The worst ones are to do with Cedric. He sometimes begs for his life; _cries_ for his life."

Jane took a breath. "Cedric?"

Hermione automatically pictured the handsome Hufflepuff's smiling face, and she flinched. "Harry blames himself for Cedric's death, because he believes that the only reason Cedric was even there in the first place was because of him. He's been so angry, Mum, and we're constantly dealing with so much and I'm just so tired." She sounded exasperated by the end of it, and Jane wasn't sure what to do. "I don't know what to do to make it better."

Jane reached for Hermione's closest hand. "I think that you're doing it, sweetheart," she said. "He looks like he's doing better."

Hermione shook her head. "He pretends sometimes," she confessed her observations. "He doesn't really have _anyone_ , and it's becoming increasingly clearer this year."

Jane squeezed her hand. "Well, he has us, okay? He'll always be welcome here, Hermione. You make sure he knows that, all right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Now, you get some sleep," she said, leaning forward and kissing her daughter's forehead. "I'll see to Harry when he wakes up."


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

She was on alert all morning.

Jane Granger's eyes kept darting Harry's way as the four of them prepared for the day. He'd looked exhausted when he joined her in the kitchen to help her with her prize-winning pies, but he was still as animated as ever.

It was a fake smile, she could now tell, and she wasn't sure how to talk to him about it without his clamming up the way Hermione warned her that he would. There was something he was deadly afraid of when it came to them; like he was terrified that they wouldn't want him here anymore if they knew the full extent of his troubles, so he was determined to hide all of it from them.

As soon as Hermione arrived in the kitchen, Jane set her to chopping alongside Harry. Though, before Hermione lifted the knife; she hugged the wizard tightly, whispering something in his ear that made him smile. Jane threw her daughter a curious look, but Hermione just shrugged and got to work.

"I'm afraid that I won't be going with you to the children's home," Jane informed them as she worked her pastry. "I've got to finish these, and then we've got to get to the park. Mickey will take you; is that all right? And then I'll just meet you later?"

Hermione just nodded.

Harry looked at Jane, a small smile on his face. "How many pies are you making?" he asked, giving her his full attention.

Jane, admittedly, felt the full extent of the intensity of his eyes and she had to lean against the counter. "I'm making six. Two of each type: apple, chocolate pecan and custard."

Harry's face lit up. "I've never even heard of a custard pie before," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"It's the one that won last year," Hermione told him. "She makes the custard herself, and it's literally to die for. She has some secret ingredient that she adds to it, though she's never told me what it is."

Jane winked at Harry. "I might tell you, kiddo, if you play your cards right."

Harry grinned.

Hermione exaggerated a gasp. "Oh, I see how it is," she said, rolling her eyes.

Harry looked at her. "You know you'll always be my favourite, Hermione," he said quietly. His voice usually dropped in volume when he said serious things; the kinds of things that carried meaning beyond his fifteen years.

Hermione glanced at her mother, contemplating whether or not to play off Harry's confession as something playful. In the end, she decided against it and gave him her own full attention. After the night he'd had, she was going to remain at his side as much as possible.

Harry smiled at her, and then looked at Jane again. "I've never had chocolate pecan pie before either," he said, choosing not to mention that he wasn't the biggest fan of chocolate. "But I once made an apple pie. It was, well, it didn't come out as well as it should have." He fell silent, and Hermione immediately took hold of his closest hand. She could only imagine what happened to him when the pie hadn't turned out right. Oh, her little Harry.

She wanted to do something more, but she wasn't sure what, and she also didn't know how well he would react to it.

Jane eventually sent them to get ready to leave the house, and they headed upstairs, murmuring to each other about something she didn't catch. She was worried. Beyond worried, actually. Something was happening, today of all days, and she was desperate to stop it before it got completely out of control.

"Are the monsters ready to go?" Michael asked, coming into the kitchen and fixing the collar of his coat. "It'd probably be better if we're in and out before lunch time." He came to a stop when he noticed the pensive look on his wife's face. "Okay... umm, what did I miss?"

She sighed. "I think that we've missed _too_ much, Mick," she said softly, sadly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Hermione told me some things this morning," she said solemnly; "after I found her asleep in Harry's room."

Michael's eyes widened. "What?"

"Separate beds, honey," she said, patting his chest condescendingly. "It's just, well, Harry has been through a lot."

Michael blinked. "We know that."

"No," she said, looking at him. "I don't think we do."

Michael could hear the severity in his wife's tone and it put him on edge. "Okay, so, umm, what are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I've been kind of hovering, and I think he's picked up on it. Hermione's probably up there telling him that she told me that he witnessed another student get killed."

"What!"

Jane shushed her husband. "You better not say anything about it," she warned, and he pressed his lips together. "I think I'm going to call Betsy once you three leave. She'll be able to help us help him."

Michael nodded, though his head was spinning. "Shall I go and get them?" He waited for Jane's own nod before he headed up the stairs to find both teenagers in Harry's room. Michael did not immediately announce his presence. Instead, he paused to look through the slightly ajar door to see Harry sitting on the floor with his knees clutched against his chest, and Hermione kneeling at his side, one hand on the back of Harry's neck and the other on his knee.

"I should have done more," Harry said, his voice little more than a whimper. "If I'd been more selfish..."

"Ssh," Hermione cooed. "I know that you know that you did everything you could," she said gently. "He wouldn't want you to keep torturing yourself over this."

"But I'm the reason he's dead!" Harry suddenly snapped, making both Hermione and Michael flinch.

Hermione didn't buckle under his anger. She was almost used to it at this point. " _Voldemort_ is the reason he's dead," she said strongly. "Pettigrew. _They're_ the ones responsible. Not you. _I_ know that, and I won't let you or anyone else think otherwise, okay?"

Harry blinked at her, his lids tired and heavy. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just, I want it all to stop. Why won't it just stop?"

Michael watched as Hermione held Harry's head against her chest, hugging him until the boy's rapid breathing steadied. He felt like he was witnessing a truly intimate moment between the two of them and it felt wrong standing there. So, as quietly as he could, he backed away and disappeared back down the stairs.

Jane was surprised when she spotted him entering the kitchen alone. "Where are the kids?"

Michael blinked. "Umm, well, they're still upstairs."

"Okay...?"

"I think I'll just shout for them," he said. "And, you know, make sure that you do call Betsy, all right?"

"What happened?"

"Just make sure you call, Jane."

It took another fifteen minutes to get all the biscuits, presents and both kids into the car, and then they were on their way. Harry, admittedly was feeling a little nervous. He wasn't sure how well their sudden presence would be received but, by the time they got there, Harry knew he needn't have worried.

Michael went in first to make sure that it was all right for them to go in and see the children, and the staff were a little _too_ happy to invite them inside. Hermione felt Harry's nerves, and it was transferring to her, as they entered the home.

"Stop twitching," she murmured, and he threw her a wistful smile.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Even though it would've been nice to be able to hand every child their own gift; there were just too many children, and the toys were meant to be shared anyway. The head of the home, Bianca Wood, did suggest allowing the younger ones to open the presents, just for the excitement of receiving an actual gift.

Harry slipped on a Santa hat and allowed himself to feel the cheer that Christmas was supposed to bring. Like his wife, Michael watched Harry carefully. There was something there to be seen; something that hadn't been there the day before. It was in his eyes. It looked like he'd aged a great deal in just one night.

Bianca had the children gather in the playroom, and Harry and Hermione quickly got to handing the presents out. There was Christmas music playing in the background, and Michael was falling in love with the childish laughter and happy chatter.

The children were quick with unwrapping the presents, and then they were all playing games and laughing endlessly. It was amazing for Michael to watch Harry and Hermione interact with the younger kids. It wasn't missed by either him or his wife that both teenagers were definitely, somewhat worryingly, mature for their ages. It seemed to him that they'd both witnessed and experienced _too much_ , but he was able to witness them act like children for the first time in a while.

Harry had a happy grin plastered across his face, and Hermione was struggling not to gawk at him. Those eyes on that face, smiling that smile. Was he trying to kill her or something? Maybe that was why they called it a _crush_. Hermione was convinced she would eventually die from it.

Hermione's attention was drawn by a small tap on her knee, and she looked away from Harry to spot a little boy and girl looking at her with wide eyes. They reminded her of Dobby in a way, even bouncing up and down from their obvious excitement. They ended up asking her some of the most uncomfortable questions, but she was able to deflect where possible and answer vaguely.

No, the boy with her was not her boyfriend. Yes, she was aware that her hair was rather bushy. And no, she didn't think that kissing was disgusting. Hermione was just glad that Harry was sitting far enough for him not to hear the probing questions. Hermione was red enough without adding Harry James Potter into the equation.

Eventually the little boy and girl shuffled along, providing Hermione with a moment of respite. Because, the next second; there was another small group approaching her, each of them just as eager as the next one.

It didn't take long for the tantrum to start. Hermione wasn't sure how it happened, or even why, but one of the little kids she was talking to, whose name was Jack, started to scream and yell and cry, and Hermione was at a loss as to what to do. She positively gasped when she got a kick to the shin, and then she watched Jack run from her.

Michael watched it all, concerned for his daughter. He waited for her to look at him and ask the question. He was even prepared for the explanation he might give, but it was all for naught in the end. Hermione did not look at Michael.

She looked at Harry.

Michael's heart skipped a beat. His daughter didn't look at her father; she rather looked at her best friend, and Michael was forced to take a deep breath as he watched the scene play out with keen interest. The teenagers exchanged a few words, Hermione's distraught expression turning to concern before she looked slightly relieved. Harry just looked determined, and then the two of them set off to find Jack.

Michael wasn't sure _what_ he was feeling, but he definitely didn't like it. Why hadn't she turned to him? She _always_ turned to him. But...?

He was still pondering this turn of events when the teenagers returned, accompanied by Jack. The little blond boy was walking between them, holding each of their hands, and it truly was a picture to behold. Shortly after, they had biscuits and hot chocolate, while Harry told the gathered children wild stories about dragons and centaurs and toad-like women.

Every child was captivated. Even the older ones who initially didn't want to participate in the festivities were hooked onto every word he said. Harry just had this way of speaking; of holding the attention of a group of people, and Michael was sure that the teenager didn't even realise that he was doing it. Even Hermione looked particularly enthralled.

Really, the witch was digging her nails into her palms, nervous over whether or not Harry's tales of great warriors battling dragons and merpeople counted as breaking the Statute of Secrecy. She was half-expecting a Ministry Owl to come flying in, followed by a group of _Obliviators_ , but nothing turned up.

By the time that Michael mentioned that it was time for them to go; Harry and Hermione weren't the only ones disgruntled by the fact that they had to leave. Little Jack even clung onto Hermione's leg as she walked towards the exit, causing her to exchange an amused smile with Harry.

Once they were in the car on the road towards the Christmas Market, Hermione couldn't help but feel warm. They'd done something good; something _important_. Because of it, she couldn't stop herself from looking back at Harry every chance she could. He was still wearing his Santa's hat, but the childish joy from earlier was gone. She could tell that he was thinking about his nightmares and it broke her heart. Harry Potter deserved to feel his happiness, and not feel guilty about it.

"Urgh," Michael suddenly said, drawing the attentions of both Harry and Hermione. "How am I expected to find parking in all of this?"

It took nearly ten minutes for Hermione to spot a free spot opposite a house covered in Christmas lights. It was a tight squeeze, but Michael claimed to be a wizard at parallel-parking, to which Hermione mentioned that, in a few years; neither she nor Harry would actually have to worry about parking at all. She was rewarded with a patented Granger-eye-roll and an unimpressed huff.

"Do you think she's started a fight yet?" Michael asked as the three of them started on their way to the park on foot.

"It's never actually _her_ , remember?" Hermione commented, sounding amused.

Michael laughed. No, he _guffawed_ , which was surprising to both teenagers. "Isn't this just the greatest holiday ever?"

Harry and Hermione were inclined to agree. She even leaned into him slightly, and whispered to him: "He can be so sappy sometimes."

"I like it," he admitted, glancing at her. "And can you honestly say that this isn't the greatest holiday ever? Because I think it is."

Hermione smiled at him. "I think it is too, Harry Potter."

For a terrifying moment, Harry wanted to take hold of her hand and just keep her close, but he kept both his arms firmly down at his sides. He had no idea how she would react to it and he definitely wasn't going to try to figure it out in a public place.

"Look up," Hermione said, as they passed through the gates of the park, and Harry did as he was told. He spied a wonderfully colourful banner, basically inviting him into enjoying the festive season in all its glory.

_Rockhampton Christmas Market_

It was like stepping into another world as they crossed under the banner. There were so many stalls, each of them sporting a sharp red, definitely promoting the Christmas spirit. There were food vendors, people selling all sorts of ornaments, knitted gifts and jewellery.

A lot of the things looked homemade, and were specially themed. Really, there was an entire stall dedicated to _Spice Girls_ memorabilia. It made Hermione laugh, but she made no real comment. There was even a small petting zoo and a carousel for the little children.

Harry looked intrigued by the various games on offer, and he made a mental note to try to win something for Hermione if they had time.

"There she is!" Michael called out from in front of the teenagers. "Doesn't my wife look amazing?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look before they both laughed.

"Dad, she's literally just standing there," Hermione said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "And you're going to start looking rather creepy if you just keep staring like that."

"She's my wife," he said, starting to walk. "I'm allowed to stare."

Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused look, but said nothing as they followed Michael into the main marquee. It smelt divine, and Harry couldn't quite believe the sheer amount of baked goodies around him. His head was even starting to spin.

Hermione grabbed hold of his arm and leaned in so she could whisper to him. "I know this seems like a silly little pie competition, but it's much bigger than that," she said, her eyes darting about. "They've been cases of sabotage, so they had to increase the security around the pies. Also, you see that woman over there..." Hermione gestured with her head to a woman in a black and white dress faffing over her own set of pies, and then waited for Harry's nod. "Her name is Carrie Burwell, and she's been the runner-up to my mum for the last three years. Naturally, there's bad blood."

Harry, admittedly, found it all terribly amusing, but he didn't dare laugh. Clearly, this was important to the Granger women.

"There you are," Jane exclaimed when she spotted the three of them. "Just in time." She hugged each of them before she showed them the pies she'd spent the better part of the morning slaving over.

"They all look so amazing, Mum," Hermione said. "Which one do you think will win it this year?"

Jane looked embarrassed for a moment, before she shrugged. "Really, I don't mind which one does it; just that one of them does. We can't have _Carrie Burwell_ winning. No, we can't have that."

Harry was sure that the animosity went back way before pies, but he didn't dare ask. Perhaps it was the warning look that Michael sent him that made him snap his mouth shut. Perhaps he'd ask Hermione later.

It was odd for Harry though. He couldn't imagine what reason Jane would have for having whatever conflict she had with this other woman. But then he met her, and he truly _realised_. He was amazed that _anyone_ did like her.

Then Harry spotted a girl - who Hermione harshly whispered was the woman's daughter - headed his and Hermione's way, and it only got worse.

Hermione stiffened at his side. "We went to school together," she whispered in a hurry. "She's mean and cold, and she _hates_ me, though I've never really been sure why. She's probably going to comment on my supposed school, probably my hair, and - "

"Hermione!" the girl said, putting on a smile fake enough that Harry was surprised it hadn't yet fallen off her face. He decided right then that he wasn't going to entertain any of this girl's antics. Hermione mentioned that her name was Chloe, but Harry wasn't to know that.

"Hello," Hermione said tensely. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm great," she said, but didn't return the question. "You look, uh... _well_."

"As do you."

Chloe's gaze drifted towards Harry, and her face turned from her slight scowl to something equally scary. Truthfully, she looked like she wanted to eat Harry, and the boy shifted awkwardly, absently stepping towards Hermione, as if they could shield each other. Chloe noticed the movement, and her eyes narrowed. " _You_ can't honestly be here with _her_ ," she said stiffly, her eyes on Harry. "You must be related. In some _very_ distant way."

Harry didn't respond, and neither did Hermione.

Chloe just looked from witch to wizard, and then back to witch. "You aren't _honestly_ together, are you? I mean, you could do so much better than the know-it-all."

Hermione flushed, and she was about to respond when Harry spoke, surprising all three of them.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch your name," he said seriously, frowning at her.

Chloe visibly perked up, enjoying the fact that Harry was talking to her. "Oh, I'm - " she started to say, but Harry cut her off.

"And I didn't actually ask because, frankly, I don't really care."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and Chloe looked like she'd just eaten something sour.

"I don't mean to be rude," he said, blatantly lying; "but it's just my automatic reaction to people who undermine my relationship with Hermione. Now, if you'll excuse us; I believe Jane Granger has a pie competition to win."

This time, Harry did take hold of Hermione's hand and proceeded to lead her away. He was irritated and annoyed, and he felt slightly ashamed. But no. He couldn't stand bullies, and it was different this time. _That girl_ was not Ron, and Harry felt no allegiance to her. So he was able to put her in her place the way that he sometimes wished he had done with Ron back in their first year.

"I'm sorry about that," Harry said softly, as they approached Jane and Michael once more. "I was incredibly rude."

"You were," she agreed; "but it was brilliant. Truly."

Harry looked at her, clearly surprised. "I just don't understand why people think it's okay to treat you that way," he said, huffing. "And then to assume that I wouldn't be here with you. _As if_." He shook his head. "I'd be so lucky."

Hermione froze. "What?"

The moment that Harry realised what he'd said, he blushed a deep, deep red, and made a point of not looking at her. Thankfully, they were both saved from their embarrassing moment by Jane turning her eyes towards them.

"I see you survived Chloe," she said, smiling slightly. "I'm not straying from this spot," she informed them; "not with that Carrie about. She probably sent her daughter this way to sabotage me."

"Mum, you're just being paranoid," Hermione said. "There's no way that she'll try something this year."

"She already did," Jane said, huffing. "Something about how my custard pie should never have won last year, because the main filling wasn't taken _from the Earth_ , or something ridiculous like that. She's pioneering to get the custard pies disqualified from this year's competition." She glanced down at Harry and Hermione. "Well, isn't this turning out to be a peach of day?" she asked, looking slightly annoyed.

"Maybe you should have made a peach pie instead," Hermione said, earning herself a glare.

Harry gently took hold of Hermione's wrist and tugged her away from her mother and towards where Michael was standing, the older man trying to look as inconspicuous as he possibly could. He visibly perked up when he spotted the teenagers.

"I'm married to her, so I can't leave," he said, shrugging slightly as he took out some money. "But here's some cash for you two. Enjoy the market for all four of us, will you?"

Hermione hurriedly took the Pounds from her father, grabbed Harry's hand and practically dragged him out of the marquee, her mind already running away from her. She wondered what she could do to convince him to wear a _Baby Spice_ sweater.

* * *

He wasn't ready to go inside just yet.

Harry Potter was standing out on the back porch of the Granger house alone, looking out into the cold darkness and _thinking_. It'd been a long day, to say the least, and that odd feeling from when he woke up was back, niggling at him and slowly eating away at the happiness he so desperately wanted to feel.

He'd been standing out there for a while. After they'd eaten supper, Hermione'd gone to have a warm shower, and Harry decided some thinking time was needed. His attention was drawn to the sound of someone emerging from the house, but he didn't turn to see who it was. "Didn't anyone tell you that it's cold outside?" he asked over his shoulder, thinking the footsteps belonged to Hermione.

Jane managed a small smile as she moved to stand next to Harry. "Actually, Michael did make me wrap up tighter than usual," she said, and Harry startled.

"Oh," he sounded, clutching at his chest. "I, uh, I thought you were Hermione."

"Nope," she said, bumping him slightly as she folded her arms across her chest to keep herself warm. "Just me."

Harry glanced at her, before returning his attention to the frozen pool in front of him. "Congratulations on your win, by the way," he said. "That chocolate pecan pie was amazing. You'll have to show me how you make it."

"I'm actually about to make some more," she said. "Special order from my mum for tomorrow."

"Are you trying to get me to come inside?" he asked, still not looking at her. "I, umm - "

"I'm not," she said. "I, just, well, I'm sure that you've noticed that..."

"You've been acting a little weird around me," he said sadly. "Hermione told me that she told you about Cedric. If you want me to go, I can. I can call the Knight Bus, and I'll - "

"Harry, no!" she said quickly, her eyes snapping towards him. "Of course not! Don't you ever think that!"

Harry just blinked at her, clearly surprised by her outburst.

"Just, no, okay?"

"Okay."

Jane breathed out. "What I wanted to say is that, yes, I've been acting a bit strange because, after Hermione told me what happened, because I've been trying to figure out how best to help you."

Harry stared at her, surprised.

"It's my understanding that you haven't truly dealt with what's happened to you, and I'm worried about what that's doing to you, both emotionally and mentally. It's unhealthy for you to be having the type of dreams that you do, and at this frequency."

Harry already knew that. If he had a way, he would have tried to stop the nightmares a long time ago. And, believe him, the Occlumency was _not_ helping. And, even if he could suppress the memories of Little Hangleton; there was still so much more that was terrifying about the life he was living.

"I have this friend, Harry," she said carefully. "Her name is Betsy... Well, it's really Elizabeth Danvers, and she does a lot of work with children who have, umm, experienced trauma."

Harry blinked.

"After what I learned this morning, I made a call to her to ask her for ways that we can help you," she went on, needing to push on. "Because we want to, Harry. It's not only Hermione. Michael and I, we care about you. I know that you just met us, properly, and it's probably odd for you to have strangers care about you, but we do, and I can't stand the thought that you have nightmares, or that you've had to face so much darkness in your life."

"But it is my life," he said, sounding resigned. He wasn't yet willing to deal with all the emotions of having them care about him the way they claimed. It would overwhelm him because, really, who did truly care?

Dumbledore surely didn't.

"It's my life, and I have no choice but to live it."

Jane sighed. He was too accepting, somewhat malleable, and she started to think that that was probably the intention. When the time came, and she feared that it would; he would do whatever was expected of him.

But what gave her hope was that, despite all the abuse and pain and lack of affection he appeared to have experienced so far; despite the fact that he'd been overwhelmed by the unfairness and injustice of his young life; he still cared. Deeply. She could see it every time he was with Hermione. Even just the way that he looked at her. This boy still had the amazing ability to _feel_ and to _love_ and _care_ about all things and that was something that Jane knew that they had to protect.

"I want you to know that you can talk to us," Jane said. "It's an offer, not a request. We would never force you to do anything you don't want to, but you can talk to us. About anything."

It was all she would say at that point. She told herself that she'd wait for at least ten minutes, and then she would go inside, and send Hermione out. Her daughter explained that these moods of Harry's tended to come and go, and they were mainly based on his reactions to the reminder that people were sure to die _because_ of him. There would be more deaths. Of that, Harry and Hermione were absolutely certain.

"This world is cruel," Harry suddenly said, glancing at Jane as they stood in the dark. He removed his hands from his pockets and placed them on the railing in front of them. " _This_ world, or _their_ world; it's all the same." He took a jagged breath. "I thought it would be different, you know. I entered this fascinating world and I believed it would be an escape, from all the pain of my relatives, of _not_ knowing; but it wasn't like that at all. People with wands can be just as cruel as those without, and, it, just - it's not fair.

"And I get it, you know... I've known it for a while: life isn't fair. But that doesn't mean that I don't have to be," he said quietly. "I've been fighting for a decent life since I can remember, Jane. It feels like I'm constantly fighting some battle, whether it's inside me, or out there."

Jane listened in silence.

"I like to put myself away," he continued, his voice a little more than a whisper. "Seek out a little silence. There's this large rock by the Black Lake that I like. I go there sometimes, and just sit for a while."

Jane gently put a hand over his where it was resting on the wooden railing. "Does it help?" she asked softly.

"Sometimes," he admitted, staring down at their gloved fingers. "Hermione finds me sometimes, and she, well, she kind of forces me to talk to her, which I - " he let out a light laugh. "You truly do have an amazing daughter, did you know that?"

Jane smiled at him. "I did know that, actually."

Harry chuckled for a moment, before he turned serious once more. "She's always been there for me, you know? She's always saving me, from all the hardships, from _myself_. And, no matter how many other people have let me down, she has never once left my side... She's honestly the best friend I've ever had, and I - I don't know what I'd do without her."

Jane wasn't sure what she was feeling at this point. Clearly, Hermione's friendship was a vital part of Harry's life, _and_ of his happiness. It was a lot of pressure to put on a sixteen-year-old.

"I, uh, I don't think that I've ever really told her how much I appreciate everything she's ever done for me," he continued. "Especially _this_. This has been the best holiday I've ever had."

This time, Jane stepped closer to him, put an arm around his shoulders and tried her best to ignore the fact that he still stiffened at the contact. This poor, poor boy.

"Thank you," he finally said, whispering the words as the two of them stood for a while. The silence seemed to stretch on but neither of them moved. Harry wouldn't be able to explain just what he was feeling, but it was definitely something positive. He'd even go so far as to say that he felt _safe_.

It was Michael who called them inside. "Oi, you two," he said, sounding amused. "The princess and I would like to open our selected presents now, thank you very much."

Jane and Harry shared a small chuckle, before they both headed inside. Things had been said, but neither of them could say that the conversation was over. There were still demons haunting Harry, but Jane suspected that he would experience a better sleep tonight.

Once inside, they learned that Michael and Hermione had made hot chocolate with marshmallows. They'd even gone so far as to pick out everyone's single Christmas gift to be opened on Christmas Eve, as per tradition.

Harry's gift was from Hermione, and he opened it to reveal a pitch black tie with a large picture of _Tigger_ from _Winnie the Pooh_ near its tip. When he sent her a questioning look, she offered him a cryptic explanation; an explanation that Harry fully accepted.

"He's warm."

* * *

She decided that it was time to get some sleep.

Hermione Granger was still thinking about how she'd spent the day before Christmas, when there was a soft knock on her door. She barely got her 'Enter' out before the door was opening, and Harry Potter was popping his head into the room.

"Are you decent?" he asked cheekily.

"Little creep," she teased, and a full-blown grin took over his face, making her heart stutter.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

Hermione shifted to her right and gently pat the bed beside her. "By all means," she said. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Harry stepped into the room, gently closed the door and then scampered towards her bed. He didn't speak again until he was settled in beside her, the side of his body touching hers. "Were you about to go to bed?" he asked, feeling a little unsure of himself.

"Just about," she told him truthfully. "I just finished writing in my journal. Today turned out to be quite the day, didn't it?"

"It did," he agreed. "Did you write anything about me?" he asked quietly, still wary of asking her such a question.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We spent the entire day together, Harry. You were certainly bound to pop up at some point."

Harry nibbled at his bottom lip, trying to force himself not to ask the question he desperately wanted to.

Hermione noticed, and she smiled warmly. Without his having to ask, she reached across him - which would have been a simple enough action if she hadn't breathed him in and got a little lightheaded - to retrieve her journal. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings again, and then she opened her journal to the desired page. She skimmed over the start of the day until she got to something she could read aloud.

"Umm, okay, let's see... 'To be completely honest, I was worried about what Harry would say to the fact that I told my mum about Cedric.'" She stopped to glance at Harry, who had his head leaning back and his eyes closed. "'I know my mum will have more questions, but I don't have answers. I can tell she's worried. This morning was enough of an indicator. She kept looking at him, and I could tell that he noticed.' Did you two talk about it?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "We did, yes."

"Are you okay?"

Harry opened one eye to peek at her. "I am now."

She felt herself blush, before she continued to search through her words, looking for something else to read to him. "'Every time I think about what happened with Chloe today, I cringe. It was awful. I don't even know why she's always insisted on being such a bitch, and I hate that she dragged Harry into it.'"

"Whoa, Hermione," he commented, chuckling. "My pretty girl using dirty words in secret. I like it."

By now, her cheeks were flaming red. Did he even realise what he said?

"And you don't have to worry about Chloe," he added. "She's just a mean bully, and I think you're perfect."

Hermione had half a mind to tell him to stop speaking entirely, but her mouth wasn't working.

"Is there any more?"

Hermione cleared her throat, her eyes returning to the pages in front of her. "'I've decided that a Harry Potter in a Santa's hat is my favourite thing in the entire world.'" Hermione blushed fiercely, and she had to force herself not to look at him. "'He was so great with the kids, laughing and joking and just brightening up their day. I think I'm going to start calling him a sunshine kid, just because of his uncanny ability to make the people around him feel warm.'"

Harry leaned his head against her shoulder. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm."

"You make me feel warm, Hermione," he whispered. "You don't even have to touch me sometimes," he elaborated. "It's just who you are, as yourself, and _to me_. You make me feel warm, and I completely forget that I ever felt cold."

Hermione swallowed, her brain struggling to compute. Wait. What was he saying?

"I just thought that you ought to know that you make everything okay. You always do."

Hermione dropped her head onto his, and allowed herself to enjoy this moment without over-analysing it. He was saying so many things, and yet nothing that she didn't already know. She was important to him; that much she knew, but would she ever be as important to him as he was to her?

Were either of them even ready for such a thing?

Hermione had to force the thoughts from her mind. _Now_ definitely wasn't the time for her to be thinking about such things. Harry needed her in a very different way right now, and she was always going to be what he needed.

She would worry about what _she_ needed at another time. After all, wasn't that what _love_ truly was anyway?


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

He woke up first.

Harry Potter couldn't help it. His eyes flew open at the crack of dawn and there was absolutely no way he would be able to get back to sleep. They had a big day ahead of them, so Harry wasted no time in heading to the bathroom to get ready. He had a feeling this was going to be a great day.

Jane woke up next and buried him in such a loving hug that Harry might have even teared up. Between the two of them, they got started on the waffles. Michael joined them shortly after, and he did the _thing_ and hugged Harry as well, overwhelming the poor boy. When breakfast was almost ready, Jane sent him to wake up Hermione, and he literally jumped at the opportunity.

Harry grabbed a Santa's hat and a spoonful of waffle batter before he raced up the stairs. He knocked once on her door - just to be polite - and then he went inside. Hermione was positively adorable when she slept. She was actually tangled up in her sheets, her hair a mess, and a bare foot sticking out from under the covers. He resisted the urge to tickle her, but went for something equally dramatic.

Harry practically pounced on her, startling her.

Hermione screamed, and then burst out laughing at the sight of him, looking like a little kid on Christmas morning. He was wearing a Santa's hat that said 'Santa's Little Helper' and it took every ounce of her will power not to bring him down to her and just hold him close.

"Time to get up," he practically sang, bouncing on her bed in his excitement. "It's Christmas Day, Hermione, and you know what that means..."

She blinked up at him. "What?"

He bounced again. "Waffles!" At the sound of that, Harry dropped a dollop of batter onto her cheek and she shrieked, pushing him off the bed. Harry landed hard on the ground, but he didn't even notice through his laughter. He quickly got to his feet.

Just in time, really, because she suddenly lunged for him, and then he was running, Hermione hot on his heels. Harry bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, deftly moving to hide behind Jane, decidedly _not_ like the boy who's faced off against Voldemort one too many times.

"What the...?" Jane asked, but stopped dead when she spotted her daughter as she sprinted into the kitchen, batter dripping down her cheek and looking half-asleep. At the sight, Jane couldn't help but burst out laughing. Harry hadn't actually stopped.

"What's going on?" Michael asked, coming into the kitchen from the dining room. When he spotted his daughter, he too started laughing.

Hermione huffed, clearly annoyed.

Harry peeked at her from behind Jane. "Merry Christmas, Hermione," he said sweetly, and even blew her a kiss.

Hermione's anger dissipated immediately, and gave way to a deep blush. Without a word, she turned and fled the kitchen, swearing her revenge.

Michael high-fived Harry. "Though, you do know that she's probably come up with a million ways to get you back already," he warned. "Ways that you'll never see coming."

Harry shrugged. "Let her try."

Hermione was as polite as ever all morning. _Too_ polite, and that was worrying. They'd gone to church and returned without any incident, but Harry was growing wary of her. She kept glancing at him and smiling cryptically. It was driving him insane.

If Harry were being really honest, he'd have to say that he rather enjoyed going to church. He didn't know half the things that the Father was talking about but it was all so very interesting, learning new things. The songs were nice as well. As wizards, they celebrated the Yuletide, but he didn't know if there truly was religion behind their own celebrations.

He doubted that the Dursleys were God-fearing people, though they definitely pretended to be. He made a mental note to discuss it all with Hermione, whenever she decided to end his torture. Really, couldn't she just strike already so he could relax?

Harry started to think that her revenge would be getting him and her father under the recently-hung mistletoe at the same time. Wow, that would be awkward! Harry even shuddered at the mere thought of it.

The mistletoe itself seemed to haunt him in some way. His eyes kept drifting towards it, as if it was taunting him. Goading him. _Daring_ him.

"We should start getting ready to go," Jane said loudly from the kitchen after they'd been back home for a little more than twenty minutes, making sure that all of them knew. They'd decided that they would wait on opening their presents until they got back later in the day.

Harry and Hermione spent a few minutes helping Jane in the kitchen, packing her pies and presents for the journey to Norwich.

"It's going to be at least three and a half hours," Michael said, striding into the living room. "So if you need the loo, go right now. The car is all fuelled up; we won't be stopping until we get to the Freeman House."

Hermione let out a small squeak, as she rushed from the room, making the other three smile.

Jane looked at Harry. "You don't need to go, sweetheart?"

Harry was slowly getting used to the endearments. "I'm good," he said confidently.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you just go in case?" she offered, somewhat knowingly, and Harry obliged. He really thought he would be fine, but it was better to be safe than sorry, wasn't it?

Because, in the end, they did end up having to pull over. _For Michael_.

Jane and Hermione giggled the entire time, teasing him incessantly about his inability to follow his own advice. He'd squirmed in his seat until he just couldn't hold it in anymore, and then pulled over on the side of the road. It was freezing. What was he thinking?

Harry could only cringe at the thought of taking a leak in this weather. Surely, there had to be a petrol station near by.

Jane handed Michael a wet wipe once he was back in the car, and turned up the heat.

"Nobody comment," he said, his teeth chattering. "Don't any of you dare say a word."

Hermione let out another giggle and Michael shot her look in the rearview mirror. She just rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Dad, this is hilarious. If it weren't _you_ ; you know you'd be laughing too."

Michael just huffed, as he took to the road again. There was Christmas music playing on the radio, and Harry felt warm and happy. All his worries about being alone on Christmas, or the cold anger that he'd felt when he received _that_ letter seemed so far away. He was here with Hermione and her parents, and he just felt like he belonged.

"Look at that." Hermione suddenly said, leaning over to point out his window. "It's massive."

Harry turned his head to see a giant inflated Santa Claus, practically looming over them all. It was huge. _And_ it was singing. "Those people really know how it's done," Harry said quietly.

Hermione was leaning towards him and, when Michael hit a small pothole in the road, she fell into him, bumping her head against his.

"Grr," Harry sounded, his hand flying up to rub against the impact point on his forehead. His eyes were tightly shut and he grit his teeth at the pain.

"Gahh," Hermione said, trying to right herself by putting a hand on what she thought was his thigh. "Sorry," she said quickly. She was rubbing at her temple with her other hand, wondering if she would end up bruising.

"Sorry," Michael called out, looking at the two of them in the rearview mirror. "Didn't see that."

Hermione shot a glare at her father, knowing full well that he'd done it on purpose. She could practically hear it in his voice. What was he trying to do? Concuss them? When she looked at Harry, he looked a little dazed. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice a little more than a whisper.

His green eyes fell on her face, and he blushed.

"Harry?" she questioned.

He couldn't bring himself to say a word, so he just looked down at his lap, and Hermione's eyes followed his.

Oh.

That was not his thigh.

Hermione snatched her hand back from its position dangerously close to another part of his anatomy. She looked away, flushing a deep red almost instantly, and the two of them did not look at each other, nor did they talk until they arrived in Norwich.

"Oh, it looks like Barry and Georgia are already here," Jane said, spying her sister's car in the driveway.

"They _do_ live in Norwich, Jane," Michael reminded her. "So, please, no family drama this year."

Hermione finally spoke. "Yes, please, no family drama," she reiterated.

It would be no use, they knew. They said the same thing every year, but there was always some kind of drama, and it almost always involved Dr Jane Elizabeth Granger, or her daughter nowadays. Hermione recovered enough to explain to Harry why that was as they were taking items out of the boot to carry into the house.

"My mum might be the youngest, but she is the most successful of the four sisters," she told him. "She's also the only one in a successful marriage. Barry is my Aunt Georgia's boyfriend. They've been together for a few years, but they keep breaking up and then getting back together. It's all so very complicated."

Harry just listened.

"Aunt Georgia has a daughter, who's twenty six. Her name is Beatrice, and she has two kids, Ryan and Kristen. They're adorable. Really, the cutest little tykes you've ever seen." She giggled. "Naughty little things, but truly adorable. I call them rascals, and my mum calls them bambinos."

Harry followed her into the house, where he was quickly and warmly introduced to Hermione's grandparents, aunt, and Barry. They had a few questions about him, which he happily answered, and then there were more people arriving. Hermione had him meet all her cousins, four in total.

Hermione explained to him that her mother had three older sisters: Georgia, Michelle and Adrienne. On top of Georgia's Beatrice, there was Michelle's Craig, and then Adrienne's Matthew and Spencer. Her cousins were all older than her and, because she was usually at boarding school _and_ lived in Oxfordshire, she didn't get to spend all that much time with them. Hermione told him that, when they were younger, she'd been rather close with Beatrice, but now she wasn't sure that the two of them could even hold a proper conversation. She just didn't know how to talk to her anymore.

Harry decided early on that he liked Matthew best. The boy was a loud comedian, though Harry had to acknowledge that Spencer was more of a silent assassin, truly funny and witty without even having to try.

"Matty and I always got on best," Hermione told him, as they got drinks from the kitchen. "I don't know why; we're not even that similar, but I reckon it's to do with the fact that he has a drive to learn things."

The eighteen-year-old did seem knowledgable about the most arbitrary things.

"We used to read my nan's encyclopaedias just to show off our reading skills," she admitted, blushing slightly. "My uncle, Craig's father, used to pay us to do it sometimes, just so he could marvel at it. He was never known to praise his own son though."

Harry could see cracks in the family where the drama could come from, but nothing really seemed to spark until they were all seated around the large table for their late lunch. It was Michelle who started it, asking Harry about the elusive boarding school that he and Hermione attended with the kind of snark that made him uncomfortable.

They thought it didn't exist. They thought Jane was hiding her daughter's _incapabilities_ behind a lie.

It made Harry burn with cold anger and he spoke up before Hermione, Jane or Michael could, his voice clear and untroubled. "It makes sense that you would think that," he said coldly. "It's not exactly advertised, because some very important people send their children there. The fact that Hermione managed to get a scholarship to such a prestigious academy is just a testament to her capabilities. And the fact that she's the top of our grade, wow. She truly amazes me and I'm sure you're so curious about it because you're very proud of her."

The table fell silent.

Harry managed a smile before he returned to eating his food. He risked a look at Hermione, who was trying her hardest not to grin madly.

It was Craig who kept going. "So you go to this school too then?" he asked somewhat cheekily. "Your parents important as well, or are you supposedly smart like Hermione?"

Harry stiffened.

Hermione made to reprimand her cousin, but Harry's hand on her thigh stopped her. This part, he could do. He could handle talking about his parents when he was defending their honour; their sacrifice that not only saved his life but also put a temporary end to the reign of terror Voldemort was exacting on the Wizarding World.

"Actually, no," he said lazily. "Nobody is as smart as Hermione, so there's no way I could have ever received a scholarship like her. And, as for my parents, yes, I believe they were truly important people, especially in the War, where they were both killed in action when I was still a baby."

Harry would be asked no more questions.

Hermione leaned into him. "Oh my God, Harry; I am _so_ sorry," she whispered. "This is horrible. This is - "

"It's okay, Hermione," he whispered back, cutting her off. "Don't worry about it, okay," he assured her. "This sunshine kid is perfectly fine, all right?"

Hermione didn't look appeased, but she did return to her meal. Jane didn't look any better. She was literally fuming in her seat, but she was determined not to have it out with her second oldest sister in front of Harry. The poor boy didn't need to see that. And, really, if they had something to say about Hermione; all they had to do was come out and say it.

Also, Jane wanted to pepper Harry with kisses for defending Hermione so succinctly. He seemed well-practiced in coming to her defence, but Jane didn't allow her mind to dwell on that for too long.

The rest of the meal was superbly awkward, and it took Hermione's nan, Ruth Freeman, announcing that dessert was served to ease some of the tension.

"I don't think I could eat another thing," Harry declared, quietly enough for only Hermione to hear.

"We can wait a little while," she offered. "Though, maybe we should dish some and set it aside. My cousins can be hoovers when it comes to the sweet stuff."

Hermione wasn't kidding. If they hadn't dished out some pudding; all they would have been left with was the rice pudding. They were both lucky enough to snag a slice of one of Jane's chocolate pecan pie each. It was _so_ good.

Harry and Hermione settled on the couch in the living room and started up a game of _Monopoly_ with Matthew and Spencer. Hermione considered inviting Craig to join but decided against it when the twenty-one-year-old couldn't be found.

Hermione didn't wonder where he was until she heard the raised voices. She buried her face in her hands. She could only imagine that her nan had waited to let rip on her daughters and grandson for making a guest in _her_ home feel so unwelcome. _And_ for trying to undermine Hermione by using her friend to do it. It was tacky and distasteful.

Hermione turned to Harry in embarrassment. "I am so sorry," she said, leaning into him. "Oh, this is so awful."

Harry moved to put an arm around her, and she buried her face against his chest. "It's fine," he said soothingly, his hand rubbing her back. He just managed to ignore Spencer's snicker. "Family is drama; it's fine, Hermione."

"But this was supposed to be a good Christmas for you," she mumbled against his chest. "And now it's ruined!"

"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously, forcing her to look at him. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had, and it's because of _you_ , okay? Don't think that a few little stray comments and a family fight are going to ruin that." Harry touched her nose with the forefinger of his free hand. "Okay?"

Hermione stared at his face, seeing the lightness in his eyes and his relaxed brow. "Okay," she whispered.

Harry waited a beat before his lips took the place of his finger and he kissed the tip of her nose. "Now, if you don't mind, I think you owe me like a billion Pounds right now."

Hermione turned her attention to the board game, and her two cousins, who had been watching the two of them knowingly. "Shut up," she muttered through her breathless blush, and they just burst out laughing.

With the crisis averted, the four of them returned to their game, which seemed to go on and on. Matthew was a smooth-talker, and was able to get out of sticky situations way too easily. Spencer was downright sneaky; Hermione was a regular professional at this game, and Harry was just painfully honest.

Because of it, the teenaged wizard was bankrupted first. He took up the position of the Bank for the most part, but he did sneak away at some point, only to return with a tray with four cups of hot chocolate and a plate of assorted festive biscuits.

Spencer grinned at him, and then turned his attention to Hermione. "He's a keeper, Hermione," he said. "Marry this boy."

Harry stumbled over his own feet, and he was just glad that he'd already set the tray down. What!

Hermione sputtered, her cheeks flaming. "Oh - um, no, it's not - no, Harry and I - we, uh - "

Matthew and Spencer both burst out laughing again. "Jeez, try not to burst an aneurysm," Spencer said, enjoying being able to tease her. "We get it. You're not, uh, wuh, uh, no." He grinned. "Totally."

Hermione ducked her head, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She couldn't bare to look at Harry. He was probably horrified at the very idea. She took a deep breath as Harry moved to sit down next to her again. He leaned into her to whisper in her ear.

"You reckon Spencer would insist on our naming one of our kids after him?" he asked, making her yelp.

Hermione had barely recovered from Spencer's last jab, and now Harry was making it worse. "You're not helping," she muttered.

"I like it when you get all flustered," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "It's cute."

"No it's not," she argued.

"Well, _I_ think it's cute, which is why I'll keep saying thing to _fluster_ you."

Hermione wanted to kiss him. He was so close, and he was so warm. It was so tempting. _He_ was too tempting.

"Hermione," Matthew said, forcing her to look away from Harry. "It's your turn to roll."

Jane was the one to put an end to the game. Somehow, Matthew and Spencer were holding on. It was because of Harry, really. He kept vouching for them, turning his pout and perfect eyes on her. It was so difficult to resist sometimes.

Jane told them that it was time to go, if they wanted to get home before Boxing Day. _And_ they had presents to open. Hermione had them quickly count their fake _Monopoly_ money to prove that she had, indeed, won. Always the competitor.

Harry and Hermione said their farewells, and Ruth invited Harry back whenever he wanted, which touched him. She also apologised for the hostility at the dining table, and Harry just accepted it. And then they were on their way back to Oxfordshire.

The two teenagers conspired in the backseat about the possibility of a Wizarding _Monopoly_. Hermione even took out her journal to start jotting down their ideas. Even though she was quite excited by the prospect, Hermione didn't dare lean towards him in case her father hit another pothole that he supposedly _didn't see_. She wouldn't let her mind think about where her hand had touched him.

It'd been a long day, and it was already nine o'clock by the time Michael pulled into their garage.

Jane looked into the backseat to see that both Harry and Hermione were still, surprisingly, awake. "Why don't you two head on up and get changed; I'll get started on the hot chocolate, and then we can open presents?"

Hermione just nodded, and then got out of the car and headed into the house. Harry waited to help offload the boot, before he also disappeared up the stairs. He was back down before Hermione, and he proceeded to build their little blanket palace once more. It was just about done when Hermione came back down, dressed in fuzzy pink pyjamas and looking decidedly less than her sixteen years. Harry absolutely loved it.

"Who's first?" she asked, grinning widely.

"Why don't you split them up into piles?" Jane offered, entering the room with a large tray. "We've got biscuits!"

Harry helped tailor everyone's hot chocolate to their liking, while Hermione delivered all the presents under the tree to the various recipients. Harry, admittedly, was both surprised and touched by the number of presents that ended up on his pile. In fact, it floored him.

Hermione eventually settled in nice and close to Harry, and the two of them sipped at their hot chocolate until Michael rejoined them. From then on, it was free for all, though Jane did try to maintain a semblance of order. They tried to pay attention to each present as it was opened, but it was a futile attempt in the end.

Jane positively cooed at the scarf that Harry bought for her. "Oh it's perfect, Harry! It matches my skirt. Thank you so much!" She called him into a long, tight hug, pushing his boundaries to the very limit.

Michael bought a black suit for Harry. "Every young man should own at least one suit," he explained. "And, well, you're probably going to have to wear it on New Year's Eve."

Harry frowned. "New Year's Eve?"

Michael looked at his daughter accusingly. "Didn't you tell him?"

Hermione was just unrolling the poster her father bought for her. "Umm, no, not yet." She turned to face Harry. "There's an annual Granger New Year's Eve party that we all have to attend next week," she said simply. "It really is painful."

"Hermione!" Michael scolded, and then he burst out laughing. "But she's right, Harry. It's awful."

Jane picked up the thread. "If you thought my family was bad, then you're in for a real shock."

"I'm also the youngest of four," Michael explained, and all my siblings have at least three children each. He laughed when Harry's eyes widened. "And then my father got remarried after he left my mum, so I have a further three half siblings. They're all going to be there, with their own spouses and their own children." He sighed. " _And_ my mum is one of twelve kids, so there's all _that_ other family." He shuddered before he turned to look at Jane. "Isn't there some way we could just not go?"

Jane covered his face with her hand dismissively. "Shut it, Mickey; we're going. You know how they'll talk if we don't."

For a moment, Harry was almost grateful that he didn't have family. Well, not really, because he wouldn't mind family drama if his parents were still alive. Though, looking at it, he didn't know if he could have survived having a _bad_ relationship with them. Would he have other siblings? Would they resent him as well?

Hermione giggled at the sight of her poster, drawing all their attentions. "Oh, I know exactly where this is going!"

From Jane, Harry received a cook book, which included the lamb curry from his second night in the Granger household. "Oh wow!" he said, looking through the various recipes. "This is so cool! Thank you!"

Jane smiled at him. "Well, you looked quite interested, so I thought you'd appreciate it," she explained. "We can try some things out together before you leave, if you'd like."

"I'd love that," he said, beaming at her. There was a moment where he hesitated, caught between wanting to hug her and actually doing it. It took a wave of her hand for him to propel himself forward so he could hug her. While he was there, Hermione screeched his name.

"Harry!"

He released Jane to look at her. "What? What?"

"It's beautiful," she declared, staring down at the watch she held in her hand. "It's too much."

Harry moved to kneel beside her. "Nonsense," he said dismissively. "It's barely enough."

Hermione quickly clipped the white gold band on her wrist, her eyes continuing to stare at its face. She couldn't bring herself to look away from it. Even her parents were commenting on how lovely it was.

"Did you see what's engraved on the back?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped towards him, panicked, and she quickly removed the watch again. Her eyes read the words first, and then the tip of her right forefinger traced the letters.

_Merry Christmas, HJG._

_25/12/1995_

_\- Love HJP_

Love.

Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes shining.

Harry swallowed nervously. Why was she looking at him like that? "Umm, so, there's a switch there that can swap it between yours and mine," he explained, pointing at a small knob on the side of the watch. "It's showing mine right now because we still don't know what your patronus is. Once you cast your first fully-formed one; it'll show up, apparently." He dropped his voice to a whisper only she could hear. "My watch does the same thing."

Hermione threw herself at him, knocking the wind right out of him. He almost lost his balance and fell backwards, but he managed to stay upright as Hermione hugged the life out of him. He felt her lips place a chaste kiss against his neck, and then she released him, putting considerable distance between them.

Harry could only stare at her, dumbfounded. She'd _kissed_ his neck. Merely the thought of it brought a blush to his face and, from the looks of it, she wasn't handling it any much better than he was.

He cleared his throat. "You should probably read up on all the other things it has," he said, referring to the pamphlet that came with the watch. "It's got all sorts of enchantments and protections."

Hermione just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She would figure out a way to say thank you soon enough.

"Oh, epic," Michael sounded, opening his next present and allowing the teenagers a reprieve. It was the tie from Hermione. He held it up and it unrolled to reveal a large Tigger from _Winnie the Pooh_ , bouncing on his tail and looking about as happy as he could get. "Harry, we match! I love it," he declared, immediately putting it on, even though he wasn't even wearing a collared shirt anymore.

"It's perfect," Jane said, tugging on the tie so they could share a kiss.

Harry looked away just in time to catch Hermione rolling her eyes.

Michael practically squealed at the pipe that Harry bought for him, Hermione did a little happy dance at her book voucher and Jane immediately doused herself in the _Poison_ perfume that Michael picked out for her. At the time on purchase, Harry had gawked at the fact that a perfume could be called _Poison_ , but he had to admit that it smelt very nice.

And then Harry opened his gift from Hermione. She bought him a few books - all part of the series that she'd got him hooked onto referred to as _The Forbidden Game_ Series - and a Christmas stocking... that had his name on it. He just stared down at the green and red fabric, his heart thundering in his chest.

Hermione sidled up to him, the heat of her equally overwhelming. "I thought we could put it up with ours by the fireplace," she said, touching his arm. "And then, for years after this, you'll always have a place here at Christmas. Or whenever, really."

Harry blinked back tears. "This - this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You are amazing, Hermione. Thank you." Before he even knew what he was doing, he was wrapped around her in a tight hug that surprised them both.

It took the sound of Michael clearing his throat to get them to release each other, both of them blushing madly.

"I'm glad you like it, Harry," Hermione said softly.

"I love it. I absolutely love it!"

Jane and Michael exchanged a look, a mixture of sadness and happiness in both of their expressions. How was it that a stocking could be so well received?

Harry clutched the fabric against his chest, letting his emotions ride through him. He leaned against Hermione. "I've never really had anything with my name on it like this," he whispered to her and, this time around, she wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him for all he was worth, trying desperately to convey _something_ to him without having to use words.

Jane quickly moved them along until all their presents were opened and piled neatly to be taken to the various bedrooms.

"You kids up for a game of _Scrabble_?" she asked, eyeing their drooping eyelids.

Hermione's face lit up but Harry merely looked confused. She had to explain to him that it was a word-building game, with the goal of building words to score the highest number of points. Of course the Dursleys wouldn't have played a game that required _that_ much thinking.

The game, admittedly, didn't last very long. Michael was the one who passed out first, and Harry was quick to follow. Jane and Hermione continued for a little while, before Hermione yawned, and Jane called an end to proceedings. The two of them cleaned up the best that they could, and then Jane was waking Michael and Hermione was waking Harry. She would never be able to get over just how cute he looked when his eyes fluttered open.

"Time for bed," she said, helping him stand up.

They all bid goodnight to one another, and then disappeared behind closed doors. Before Harry climbed into bed, he used the toilet and then decided that he needed a glass of water. He wasn't feeling as sleepy now that he was up and about.

Harry headed down to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. He had just reached into the biscuit tin to swipe one, when someone spoke from some place behind him.

"Hey you," Hermione said, unable to resist.

Harry startled, and almost dropped the glass of water in his hand. He turned sharply, and looked at her accusingly. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?" he asked, his breath ragged.

Hermione just smiled. "Well, I did go to your room to jump on you the way you did this morning, but you weren't there," she said, shrugging. "So, what are you doing?"

"Getting some water."

"And that biscuit in your hand; it's just a what, an illusion?"

Harry blushed. "Would you like one?"

"Why not?"

Harry set his glass of water down on the counter and proceeded to get another biscuit from the tin on the same counter. He was astutely aware of Hermione moving towards him, and he did all he could not to react in some way. The kitchen was dark, and he felt _happy_ \- there was no saying what he would do.

Harry handed her a biscuit, and the two of them ate in silence for a moment. When Hermione lifted his glass and took a sip from it; Harry filled with a warm feeling that he wouldn't be able to name. He was sure it wasn't even rational because all she did was drink from his glass, but, seriously, he felt giddy.

"What?" Hermione asked, the glass held against her lips. "You didn't spike this with some potion, did you?"

"And why would I do that?" he asked, unable to get rid of his smile.

"Exactly," she agreed. "Why would you?"

Harry took the glass from her, his fingers brushing against hers, and then took a large gulp of water, before handing the glass back to her. "Let's wait a minute to see if anything happens," he said.

They passed the glass between them until all the water was gone, and then they stood and looked at each other, just waiting. Neither of them said a word, but slowly, their smiles widened until they were both laughing at how ridiculous they were acting.

Eventually, Hermione spoke. "You are so weird," she said.

"That may be so," he agreed; "but you don't care, do you?"

"Not in the slightest," she said, resisting the urge to touch him. Then: "We should probably get some sleep, Harry."

He nodded in agreement, before he carried the empty glass and placed it in the sink. He'd probably make too much noise if he were to try to wash it now. He followed Hermione out of the kitchen, and into the living room, where she stopped to pick up her novel.

They seemed to forget.

It was the only explanation, really, that would have them willingly walk through the arch that they both knew housed the dangerous mistletoe. _Together_. They came to a mutual stop right under the offensive plant, and Harry's heart immediately started to race.

"Oh," Hermione sounded, unable to form suitable words. Why oh why had she insisted on picking up her book? "I forgot about this," she managed to say. "We, uh, we can _not_ , and just say we did," she offered quietly, definitely giving him an out. This was _so_ not how she wanted to kiss him.

Harry steeled himself. "Or we _could_ , and still say we did," he counter-offered.

Hermione just stared at him.

Harry turned his body to face her fully. "It _is_ Christmas, Hermione," he said, giving her a small smile. "Unless you don't want to?" he asked uncertainly.

"I do," she said quickly, turning to face him as well. "It's all in the spirit of Christmas, right?"

Harry nodded as he took a small step towards her, his breath ragged. Was this really happening? Was he really going to kiss her?

Yes, yes he was.

Hermione couldn't breathe. This was terrifying. Harry looked like he _wanted_ to kiss her, and that was paralysing. What was she supposed to do now?

Harry closed the space between them with one more step, his right hand moving to rest at her hip. She gasped quietly at the contact, but it bolstered her own position, and she raised her hand to trace his jaw with her fingers. His skin was so warm.

Hermione decided that it would be a chaste kiss, just a peck, a quick meeting of lips, and then they would go to bed and forget that this ever happened.

But when his lips tenderly pressed against hers, all thoughts left her. She practically melted against him, absently pulling him closer as her fingers moved to run through the strands of his perfect hair. It was _everything_.

Harry pulled away to whisper against her lips. "Hermione."

But she was pulling him back to her, not wanting this magical moment to end. Harry kissed her back with increased urgency, his warm hands cupping her face. He felt like he was on fire. That was it. His skin was burning wherever they were touching, and the fact that she was pulling him closer was, well, consistently robbing him of precious breath. He was kissing her, and it was _everything_.

Hermione felt both light and heavy at the same time. She wanted to say his name, just to be sure that this was really happening, but her voice got stuck in her throat. Really, she was convinced that she would never be able to speak again.

Harry pulled away first, his eyes remaining closed as he rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled and it sent a shiver down and then back up Hermione's spine. There were things that they needed to talk about - particularly this kiss - but she couldn't. She _wouldn't_.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," he murmured, his thumb gently running across her bottom lip. He placed one last kiss against the corner of her mouth, and then he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time and disappearing into his room before Hermione could recover enough to open her eyes.

She knew that he was gone from the loss of heat, but she couldn't stop a goofy smile from taking hostage of her face. She looked up at the mistletoe, breathing out a quiet thank you.

Definitely a great day!


	8. Chapter 8

**AN** : There are a few lines from the film in this chapter, mainly because I loved them so much.

* * *

**VIII**

He couldn't get to sleep.

Harry Potter tossed and turned in bed until he finally gave up on reaching any form of unconsciousness. He kissed Hermione. He _kissed_ her. And she kissed him back. No, she'd commanded the kiss, deepening it and turning his brain to porridge. He could still feel the aftereffects of her fingers in his hair and her lips against his. _Claiming_ his.

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep now.

He wanted to kiss her again. Really, he wanted to get out of bed and go to her. He needed to be sure that it hadn't all been a dream; that it really happened, and that she didn't want to take it back. Did she regret it? Did it _mean_ anything?

Eventually, the events of the day caught up with him and Harry finally fell asleep. It was a troubled sleep, and he woke up a few times, but not from nightmares. He rather dreamt of Hermione and, now that he knew how it felt to kiss her; his dreams were filled with snapshots of her warm breath, soft lips and possessive fingers.

Harry knew it was just supposed to be a mistletoe-kiss, but it was so much more than that now, and they were going to have to talk about it. When, he didn't know, because, as soon as he headed downstairs the following morning, Michael rushed him straight through breakfast. They needed to leave as soon as possible to deal with traffic to be in the stadium by the three pm kickoff.

The one good thing, Harry decided, was that Hermione was still _looking_ at him. So she wasn't angry with him, which was a relief.

"Are you ready to go?" Michael asked Harry, as soon as Harry was done chewing and swallowing his last mouthful of breakfast. "Grab your coat. I'll meet you in the car."

Harry just looked bewildered.

Jane smiled at him. "He's excited," she explained simply. "And it'll probably be better if the two of you did arrive early. Who's to say how the traffic's going to be? It might have snowed between here and London."

Harry just nodded, as he got up from the table. "Do you, uh, need any help with this?" he asked, caught between being polite and his eagerness to get going as well.

"I think Hermione and I can handle it," Jane said.

At that, Harry's eyes flickered towards Hermione, who was smiling at him, her cheeks red and her eyes hooded by her lashes.

"I've instructed Mickey to take lots of pictures," Jane said. "You make sure he does that, all right?"

"I promise," he said, before he left the kitchen to fetch his coat and use the toilet before they set off. Jane packed Michael a thermos of coffee, and one for Harry with hot chocolate. She packed some sandwiches and biscuits for them, adding extra for the burly Martin Porter and his oldest son, Cody Porter.

Hermione did not hug Harry before he left, which was a fact that didn't quite sit right with either of them, but neither of them said a word about it.

It took just over two hours for them to get anywhere near Highbury, and finding parking was a complete and utter nightmare, but Harry was enjoying every second of it. Michael had spent majority of the drive there explaining to Harry the history of Arsenal Football Club, and the reasons why he loved them so much.

There were so many people in and around the stadium, and the atmosphere was positively buzzing despite the freezing temperatures. Harry had never been to a football match in his entire life and he couldn't have asked to go with anyone other than Michael Granger.

"Oh, there's Martin," Michael said, leading the way with his hand on Harry's back. They'd agreed to meet near the closest entrance to their seats. "And Cody. Wow, they're so decked out. Now _those_ are true Arsenal supporters."

Harry felt a bit awkward standing there, before Michael introduced him to his fellow dentist and his son.

"Got yourself another kid, I see," Martin joked with Michael, and Michael didn't once deny it. Martin thrust his hand forward. "It's nice to meet you, Harry. Are you an Arsenal supporter?"

"He's about to be," Michael said, laughing. "Kid doesn't have a team yet. Think the Gunners can convince him today?"

"Against QPR," Cody scoffed. "Rioch could field a reserve team if he wanted to."

Michael nodded his agreement, and then noticed Harry's confused look. "Bruce Rioch, he's the new Arsenal manager," he explained. " _I'm_ still feeling him out, but Martin and Cody here are convinced he's the man for the job." He looked at Martin. "It's all the draws, mate. They have to turn into victories."

Harry just listened, and took in everything he could. Maybe if he learned enough; he'd be able to talk to Dean about football. If he recalled correctly, Dean was a West Ham United fan. Which, Harry discovered, was also a London club; a great rival of Arsenal's.

Before they headed into the Highbury Stadium, Michael had Martin snap a picture of Harry and him posing in front of the stadium.

"Jane would kill me if I didn't," Michael commented.

"Not if Hermione didn't get you first."

Harry, admittedly, felt a little winded having said her name. He felt his palms start to sweat, even in his gloves. What was that girl doing to him? What _more_ did he want her to do to him?

"Harry," Michael said, looking down at a bit of Harry's exposed wrist; "Is that...?"

Harry immediately blushed. "It is."

"Does she know?"

"Not exactly," he said, covering up the watch, protecting it from the cold.

Michael nodded thoughtfully before Martin's voice caught his attention.

"You two ready? We're heading inside now."

Michael started forward, moving through the crowd with purpose.

Harry waited a beat, and then he followed, his excitement pushing away all thoughts of what was supposed to happen now that he knew how amazing it felt to kiss Hermione Granger.

* * *

She was distracted.

Hermione Granger could barely pay attention to what her mother was saying as they discussed outfits for the upcoming New Year's Eve party, and Jane definitely noticed.

"Sweetheart, is everything okay?" Jane asked cautiously, wary of whatever her daughter might tell her.

Hermione seemed to snap to attention. "Hmm?"

"Are you all right?"

Hermione let out a tired laugh. "Am I okay?" she asked quietly. "Do you think, well, umm, do you think I can take down that mistletoe in the arch now?" she asked.

Jane was surprised by the question. "Umm, I'm sure you can," she said, sensing something severe in her daughter's tone. "Do you mind my asking why?"

Hermione sighed, and then flopped down onto her parents' bed. "Harry and I ended up under it last night," she confessed, covering her face with her hands.

Jane wasn't sure how to read her daughter at this point. She suspected that Hermione would have been over the moon if they'd kissed so, based on _this_ reaction, Jane could only assume that they hadn't. "Didn't you kiss?" she asked cautiously.

Hermione sat up suddenly. "What makes you think that?" she asked pointedly, forcing Jane to sputter in her position just inside her walk-in closet.

"Well, you look miserable, so, I don't know... What happened?"

"I _gave_ him the option not to," Hermione said. "I told him we didn't have to, but then he said that we should, because it was Christmas and all that, and I went with it, because why wouldn't I? It was just going to be a quick kiss, you know, but then he came at me with those perfect eyes and cute face, and... Urgh!"

Jane was so confused. "I'm not sure I follow."

Hermione dropped down onto the bed again and groaned. "God, it was perfect, Mum," she eventually said. "Everything about it. He _wanted_ to kiss me; I know he did, and it was amazing and wonderful and terrifying all at the same time." She swallowed. "But it was a mistletoe-kiss, so it doesn't count. It wasn't a true kiss but it felt like _so much more_ , and now that we've had this perfect moment; it's just..." she trailed off, sighing again.

Jane moved to sit down on the edge of her bed, trying to make sense of what her daughter was trying to tell her. "Did you talk to Harry about it?"

Hermione just stared at her mother. "And say what? Oh, Harry, you know how we kissed... Well, it turns out that I'm actually in love with you; want some eggnog?"

Jane raised her eyebrows. "You're in love with him?"

Hermione made a gurgling noise as she sat up, panicked. "I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

Jane was not prepared for this. She was definitely not ready for this conversation. _This_ was why it was probably easier to have a son. "Hermione?" she prompted.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know how it happened, Mum, but somewhere among all our stupid little fights, our many inside jokes, long conversations and all our laughs; I just - I fell in love with him."

"So, Harry knows none of this?"

"Of course not," Hermione answered quickly. "It would be so embarrassing if he ever found out, so you can't tell him!"

Now Jane was confused. "Why would it be embarrassing?"

"Well, because he'd get all awkward, and he wouldn't know how to let me down easy without hurting my feelings, and then we would have to spend the rest of the holiday together, and it would just be so awful."

"But how do you know that he won't like you back?" Jane asked the question, fully prepared to shoot down any of her daughter's insecurities, but what she received as a response threw her for a loop.

"Because there's another girl that I know he likes," Hermione said flatly. There was no malice in her tone, or even any irritation. Hermione had been trying to help him with Cho all year because all she wanted was for him to be happy. "I mean, I'm sure he still likes her. He has for quite some time now, but they don't really talk. He doesn't know her and, well, she doesn't really _know_ him either. The thing is that, well, they kissed a few weeks ago, and, I mean, it didn't go that well, but I think he still has feelings for her."

Jane gently pat her daughter's leg. "Hermione, I think that you need to talk to Harry," she said solemnly. "You're obviously important to him and he's probably also quite confused about all of this. He probably doesn't even understand _what_ he might be feeling, for you, or for this other girl. Be his friend first, remember?"

Hermione sighed. "I remember."

Jane chuckled. "I'm so glad I'm no longer a teenage girl. Everything sounds so complicated and, wow, everything just feels like the end of the world."

Hermione did not mention to her mother that she was convinced that she already _knew_ what the end of the world _could_ feel like. She'd experienced a feeling like that when Harry disappeared from the maze and, when he'd returned, for the shortest of moments; she'd been convinced that _he_ was the one who was dead.

 _That_ felt like the end of the world. The end of _her_ world.

Jane eventually stood up. "Now, help me find something to wear," she said. "We need to blow them away."

Hermione welcomed the opportunity to stop thinking about Harry and the feel of his lips against hers. After they finally decided on an outfit for Jane, they worked on Hermione's. Jane apparently wanted to find something that would make Harry turn his head. Hermione didn't even try to fight her.

"I want to wear red," was all Hermione offered up.

Jane glanced over her shoulder at her. "Why?"

"Harry likes the way I look in red," she said simply, and that was that.

It was only much later that the boys got home, and she was almost bowled over by the force of Harry's hug. He was grinning madly, seconds away from doing a happy dance.

"Hermione!" he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "That was amazing! Oh my God - it was so awesome! Look at me; I'm literally shaking." He bounced on the spot, and Hermione looked over Harry's shoulder at her father.

"How much sugar did you give him?" she asked, ready with an eye-roll.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael said innocently.

Harry dropped his hands but remained standing right in front of her as they stood in the kitchen. "It was so loud," he said, rubbing his ears to show her _just how much_. "There were like thirty-eight thousand people there, just to watch a football match that wasn't even a Quidditch World Cup final or anything. That's a lot of people!" He shook his head in amazement. "They started shakily, but then they recovered, and then they totally dominated possession. And then Wright scored! Of course he did. And then Merson scored twice! _Twice_ , Hermione! Apparently that's called a brace. And three would be..."

Hermione let him go on until he ran out of breath. She couldn't have stopped her own smile if she tried. He really was a sunshine kid in this moment.

"Harry," she eventually said, forcing him to look at her. "I have a surprise for you."

He blinked, his mind flying to something along the lines of secret kisses in the dark. "You do?"

Hermione took hold of his hand, and then led him out of the kitchen through the house towards the study.

"The surprise isn't the rest of our homework, is it?" he asked, sounding amused.

Hermione cast him an unimpressed look. "Hush, you."

"I'm just saying, Hermione; we could - " but he stopped speaking entirely when he stepped through the door and spotted Sirius Black in the middle of an intense game of chess with Jane Granger.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed automatically, his mouth moving before his brain caught up.

The older wizard startled and ended up knocking the chess board, causing several pieces to topple over.

Harry covered his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled guiltily, but then he was being wrapped up in his godfather's arms and nearly every other feeling just fell away. Sirius was here. His godfather. He was here. Harry pulled back, frowning. "What are you doing here?" he had to ask. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

"Harry," Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Sirius came to see _you_."

Harry blinked in surprise. "You did?" he asked the shaggy man.

"Of course," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair. "It's Christmas and all that. Had to discuss with Hermione when would be the best time."

Harry glanced at Hermione, his heart swelling with affection.

Hermione blushed under Harry's intense gaze. "I was just making some hot chocolate. You two catch up. Mum, some help?"

Jane stood up and started towards them. She greeted Harry by placing a kiss atop his head and then she and Hermione left godfather and godson to talk. She could just make out their excited voices as they headed towards the kitchen.

"He was about to win," Jane informed Hermione, as the younger Granger went to reboil the water in the kettle. "Remind me to thank Harry later."

Hermione laughed. "Sirius will end up wanting a rematch, you know?"

"I'll be better prepared next time," Jane said, and then smiled when she spotted Michael in the living room. "Mick, come here," she called out; "you didn't even say hello."

Hermione was taken aback by the excitement that her father displayed. It was almost as bad as Harry's. He went on and on about the match to his wife, and he gushed about how he was sure that he'd convinced Harry to be an Arsenal fan.

"Can we keep him?" he asked, grinning.

Both her parents looked at Hermione, and she blushed. "Sure, Dad," she said. "We can keep him."

Michael threw a fist into the air. Then, he glanced down at the tray that Hermione set out. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, uh, Harry's godfather is here," Hermione explained. "He stopped by to wish Harry well, and I'm just taking them something to drink."

Michael frowned. "Harry has a godfather? Why isn't he with him for Christmas?"

Hermione grimaced. "It's complicated," she admitted. "Sirius, well, he's, umm..."

Jane picked up the thread. "Technically, he's a fugitive," she said, summarising what Sirius had told her over their chess game; "but he's definitely innocent."

Michael blinked a few times, visibly tensing.

Hermione hurried with some more explanation. "He was sent to prison for supposedly killing thirteen people, after he was believed to have betrayed Harry's parents, which ultimately led to their deaths," she said, cringing when her father's eyes widened. "And then he escaped because he recognised the real person responsible for all of that in a newspaper. It turned out that the person was actually Ron's rat, and so, well, Sirius tried to get to him. To save Harry."

Michael still looked uncomfortable.

"Maybe you should just meet him," Hermione offered. "He's really great, if a little dramatic sometimes."

Michael just nodded and, once the tray was ready to go, the three of them headed to the study together. It was a little awkward at first, mainly because Sirius and Harry were slightly awkward. Michael also wasn't helping, but then Hermione got Harry talking about the football match and that was that.

Michael, Sirius and Harry went on for ages discussing the intricacies of both football and Quidditch, laughing at the similarities and wishing that more of the other game could influence the other. Jane shot Hermione an accusing look before the two of them decided to leave.

Harry reached for Hermione's hand before she left, catching her attention. "Thank you," he mouthed.

Hermione made to speak, but then her eyes drifted to the watch on his left wrist and she froze. That was... She blinked.

Harry noticed, and he immediately released her hand, flushing instantly. "Told you that I got _us_ a present," he said quietly. "I'm just waiting on your Patronus form now, so you better get working on that."

Hermione couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing the top of his head, before she scurried out of the study.

Harry took a moment to compose himself before he turned back to Sirius and Michael, who both looked deathly amused. "Shut up," Harry automatically said, talking directly to Sirius.

But it was Michael who made the poor boy blush that bit more. "I hope you know that she won't want a winter wedding."

Sirius and Michael both burst out laughing at Harry's horrified expression, and it took them an obscenely long time to calm down enough to continue a normal conversation, though Sirius was enjoying being able to tease Harry a little too much.

"Always liked that one," he'd say. "Couldn't have picked a better girl, Potter." Or: "Knew it the first moment I met her she'd become my goddaughter-in-law."

Harry turned to Michael for help but it was no use. He too was caught in Sirius' antics, and all Harry wanted to do was hide away somewhere and never come out.

Eventually, Michael relented and left Sirius and Harry to talk alone, realising that they usually had very little time to spend together. Harry sat perfectly still when Michael left, still in a little bit of shock that Sirius was actually here, right in front of him. The more they talked, the more he relaxed, and then he was opening up about his fears... about the reasons he knew that Dumbledore decided against having Harry at the Order's Headquarters.

"This connection between me and Voldemort... what if the reason for it is that I'm becoming more like him? I just feel so angry, all the time. What if, after everything that I've been through, something's gone wrong inside me? What if I'm becoming bad?"

Sirius regarded him for a moment, his heart breaking for this young man in front of him. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry," he said, leaning forward. "You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to. Besides, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

Harry just nodded.

"And, tell me this, do you really think that Hermione would ever allow you to go bad?" he asked, smiling knowingly.

Harry blushed again, wondering why Sirius kept going on about him and Hermione. Could he tell? Could he tell that Harry's view of Hermione had changed? Harry refused to bring the word 'feelings' into the equation, because that would just be too complicated for his little boy brain to handle right now.

Harry, admittedly, was tempted to ask Sirius for advice, but then decided against it. He probably would have been teased until he was crying tears. Somehow, he would figure it out. He'd figured out nearly everything else on his own anyway.

Or, really, he'd just ask Hermione.

The witch on his mind returned shortly after, with a small gift in her hand. She sat down next to Harry before she handed the gift to Sirius. "This is from me and Harry," she said. "And don't you start with your jokes about tandem gifts," she reprimanded before he could even open his mouth. "Just open it."

Sirius looked between them before he did as instructed and unwrapped the gift to reveal a miniature version of the tapestry that Sirius had shown Harry in Grimmauld Place. Instead of having the Black Family Tree, it was a retracted version of the Potter one, and it included Sirius as James Potter's brother, and Fleamont Potter's son.

Tears sprung to Sirius' eyes.

"Harry drew it up," Hermione explained; "and then I worked out how to transfer it to the tapestry. Do you like it?"

"I love it," he said, forcing himself to look up. "Thank you, both of you. Thank you."

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable with all the emotion Sirius was trying his best not to display, but Hermione just stood up and went to hug him.

"We're glad you're here, Sirius," she said, releasing him. "Which is why I was instructed to tell you that you've been invited to stay for dinner, and you are not allowed to decline."

Sirius chuckled. "I wouldn't have dreamt of it."

Hermione beamed at him. "Great! Because dinner's ready!" She stepped back and pulled Harry to his feet, giving Sirius a moment to compose himself. Hermione didn't immediately release Harry's left hand. In fact, she brought his left hand up and moved his sleeve out of the way to look at his watch. It was a male's version of her own. She was touched that he'd bought a set, and thought of _her_.

"If you two need a moment," Sirius said, sounding amused.

Hermione immediately released Harry's hand, and then fled from the room. Harry shot a glare at Sirius, and then he too left the room, Sirius following behind.

They ate in the dining room because the kitchen table could only fit four people comfortably.

It was a great dinner, full of laughter and endless innuendo targeted at the two teenagers. They were both squirming in their seats, blushing red and equally horrified that the adults seemed to pick up on something that neither of them could quite make sense of.

It was deathly embarrassing but they remained a united front, doing their best not to react to the obvious baiting.

Jane made a wonderful dinner, and Harry was a little annoyed that he hadn't been able to help and learn. Jane enjoyed his enthusiasm though, because her daughter wasn't very interested in the kitchen, though she claimed that she could bake. Well, she _could_ , but it was mainly shortbread. Hermione made amazing shortbread.

It was much later that Sirius decided that it was time to go home. As much fun as he'd had with the wonderful Granger family, he knew he had overstayed his welcome. And plus, Harry kept yawning. Based on what he'd learned about the day the young wizard had; he expected that Harry was truly exhausted.

They'd headed back to the study once more and, at some point, it was just Harry and Sirius left, which let Sirius know that it was definitely time to say goodbye.

"When this is all over, we'll be a proper family. You'll see," Sirius said, and Harry believed him. Well, he believed that Sirius believed what he said, and that was more than enough for him. "I couldn't actually _bring_ your Christmas present with me, but you'll definitely see it when you come to Grimmauld Place."

"If I ever come to Grimmauld Place," he muttered, and Sirius made no comment.

"I should get going."

Harry nodded sadly, before he stood up. He waited while Sirius said his farewells to Jane, Michael and Hermione, and then Harry was walking him out into the backyard.

"I made an illegal Portkey," he admitted, laughing. "You think they'll send me to jail for that?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to be amused.

Sirius could tell, so he drew the younger wizard into a last hug. "It's all going to be all right, Harry," he said softly. "You'll see. We'll figure this all out, and then we'll find some place nice to live, and just _be_. How does that sound?"

Slowly, a smile crept across Harry's face.

"That's more like it," Sirius said, releasing Harry so he could look at him. "Believe me, I want nothing more than for you to come and live with me. Okay?"

Harry nodded. "Okay."

"Good." Sirius stepped back and took out a small piece of rope. "I'll see you soon," he said, winking. "James."

And then he was gone, and Harry was left there to ponder all his emotions. At this point, he could fall either way. There was the melancholy that was threatening to claim him, and then there was the happiness that was calling out to him.

So Harry accepted it. This had been a great, amazing, fantastic day that he was sure he would never forget.

Suddenly, Harry was so _happy_ ; it was threatening to spill out of him. Honestly, he couldn't imagine a better day ever in his life. Well... he had an idea on how it could get just that bit better.

After making the decision, Harry went in search of Hermione. He found her in the living room - perfect - and surprised her by tugging her up off the couch and dragging her towards the arch that housed the mistletoe. Only, the little bundled-up plant was gone.

"Huh?"

Hermione was frowning, clearly confused. "Harry?"

"Where's the mistletoe?" he asked, his confidence waning.

She blushed. "Oh, I, uh, I took it down, now that Christmas is over," she admitted.

Harry instantly deflated. "Oh."

Hermione blinked. "Why are you asking?"

Harry felt his heart rate rise. "Oh, you know, no real reason," he said nervously. "I was just wondering." And then he bolted, leaving Hermione to watch after him, equal parts confused and electrified.

Hermione remained where she was, her mind reeling. He'd brought here here for a very specific reason and, the moment she allowed herself to accept _that_ ; her heart rate started to rise. Did Harry really want to kiss her again?

As she stood there, she realised that her mother was right. She definitely needed to talk to Harry about all of this. At this point, it was the only way.

Hermione waited another beat before she headed upstairs and knocked on his bedroom door. As soon as she heard him speak, she opened the door to find him sitting on his claimed bed, his eyes focused on the picture frame she'd given him for Secret Santa.

"I brought it with me," he admitted, blushing slightly. "I just, well, I love it so much that I couldn't just leave it behind."

Hermione moved to sit down next to him. "I think that you and I need to have a little talk," she said, sounding much calmer than she felt. She took hold of the frame from him and set it aside before she took hold of both his hands. "What happened downstairs, Harry?" she asked carefully.

"When?"

She raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to continue playing dumb.

"Oh," he breathed. "That."

She nodded. "That."

"What do you want me to say, Hermione?" he asked, dropping his gaze.

"Well, first, umm, did you drag me to that arch because you, umm, wanted to kiss me?" she asked uncertainly, and felt Harry's hands stiffen in hers.

He swallowed. "Would you be mad if I did?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "No, I wouldn't."

Harry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Then yes," he confessed. "Desperately."

She needed to keep a check on her breathing. "Why?"

He frowned. "What do you mean why?"

"Why did you want to kiss _me_? Why now?"

Harry had the sudden urge to take his hands back and possibly sit on them, but he remained in position, his heart thumping in his chest. He could have sworn it was echoing throughout his entire body. "Umm..."

"Was it because you were feeling happy, maybe? And I was just around?"

Harry's eyes widened. "What? No!" This time, he did take his hands back. "How can you even ask that?"

"Then you weren't happy?" she asked quietly.

Harry sputtered. "No, I mean, I was," he said, stumbling over his words. "I mean, I _am_. But that's not why I wanted to kiss you. I mean, it _is_ , but not just because you were there. If you weren't around, I probably wouldn't have wanted to kiss _anyone_." He was somewhat satisfied with his awful response right until the moment that Hermione spoke again, asking a question that threw him.

"Not even Cho?"

Harry visibly deflated. He hadn't thought about Cho since... well, he couldn't quite remember when. "Is that what you're worried about?" he asked Hermione. "That I would only want to kiss you because you're conveniently here?"

Hermione dropped her gaze, unable to answer.

This time, Harry took hold of _her_ hands, and waited for her to look at him. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he should be saying to her, but he knew it had to be reassuring. And, frankly, he couldn't quite figure out what he was feeling enough to make sense of any of it. "I wanted to kiss _you_ , Hermione," he said strongly. "I, uh, I like kissing you. Far better than I like kissing Cho, that's for sure."

Hermione couldn't help her chuckle, and it seemed to ease the slight tension in the air.

Harry released one of her hands so he could tilt her chin to make her look at him again. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have, umm, _tried_ that way. You're my best friend, and I should never have put you in that position, especially when you and your parents have been so kind to me. Can you ever forgive me?"

Hermione just stared at him, taking in his perfect green eyes and slightly pouted lips. Did he think she was upset over the fact that he'd tried to kiss her? Oh no! He did! And that meant that he definitely wouldn't try it again. So, well, Hermione did the only thing she could think of and leaned forward to kiss him.

Harry was surprised at first but then his brain shut down and his body took over. Hermione's lips parted on a gasp when one of Harry's hands moved to her hip, and then their tongues touched. It was like an electric shock passed through both of them and Harry resisted the urge to pull away so he could look at her. Tasting her was a lot better.

Hermione's hands trailed up his forearms, over his muscles towards his shoulders, until finally taking refuge in his hair. She pulled him closer, somehow forgetting that this was Harry Potter she was basically man-handling.

"Hermione! Harry! Hot chocolate!"

They broke apart at the sound of Jane's voice booming from downstairs. Harry was grinning stupidly, his eyes widening as he realised what had just happened, and Hermione was flaming red, her gaze dropped.

"Oh my God, Hermione," Harry said, blinking repeatedly as complete panic started to set in. "What was that?"

She giggled behind one of her hands, enjoying the shocked look on his face. "Well, I don't want you to think that I didn't want you to kiss me," she said. "I like kissing you too."

Harry just stared at her. "You do?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" she asked, standing up and starting for the door. "And I reckon I was wrong, you know?"

Harry managed to get to his feet as well, stumbling slightly. "About what?"

"Your kissing," she said, sounding that same playful that made his heart race. "It is _so_ _much_ more than satisfactory."

Harry grinned at her, that warm happiness filling him from the inside out. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, loving the look of bewilderment in his eyes. "Why, Harry Potter, didn't you know that I was a closeted rule-breaker?"

Harry started towards her. "I always knew you were one of us," he said, his voice airy and light. "Just masquerading as a diligent student all these years."

Hermione sucked in a breath when he reached her, coming to stand uncomfortably close to her. "It's hard work being me," she managed to say, her breathing ragged.

Harry brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I'd imagine so," he said softly, his breath warm on her skin. "It must be hard work being perfect."

For a moment, Hermione just stared at him, and then she burst out laughing. "Oh wow!" she wheezed. "That was awful, Harry."

He laughed as well. "It was, wasn't it?" he agreed. "I'm not good at this kind of thing."

"Liar," she said. "You are. You definitely are."

Harry tilted his head to the side. "If you say so, pretty girl."

Hermione took a deep breath, one of her hands touching his chest. "See," she said softly. "Complete sunshine."

They kissed again. It was a slow, meandering kiss that could have gone on for hours if Jane hadn't yelled for them again. Their hot chocolate was getting cold.

Hermione reluctantly pulled away, her eyes fluttering open. "We should go," she said, her voice raspy; "before, you know, she comes and gets us."

Harry just nodded, before he stole one last, chaste kiss, and then opened the door to let them both out. He followed after her, his head spinning. _This_ had to be the greatest day of his entire life. Seriously.

Because, truly, the girl was _perfect_ , even if she didn't believe it.


	9. Chapter 9

**IX**

She was going to end up killing him.

Hermione Granger was positively relentless with her hands. They went everywhere, turning him to complete putty with every touch. She could get him to make sounds that he didn't even know a person could make, and she was enjoying it all a little too much.

Harry and Hermione spent the next few days working on their many assignments, eating too many Christmas goodies and kissing way too much. Hermione made a deal with him that, for every assignment he finished; she would, well, shower him with kisses, which had the boy working more diligently than she'd ever seen from him before. Who knew what a little incentive could do?

On the last Saturday of 1995, as soon as they finished all their work for the year; Harry and Hermione went for a walk. They bundled up nice and tightly before they stepped out into the freezing temperatures and started down the road. Hermione lived on Jacaranda Drive, which ended in a large cul de sac several houses down from the Grangers'.

Hermione hugged Harry's arm as they walked, their faces and heads covered so only their eyes were visible. She started to shiver almost immediately.

Harry looked at her, smiling behind his scarf. "Didn't anyone tell you that it's cold outside?" he asked.

She looked at him through her lashes. "It's _your_ job, now that we're - " she stopped suddenly.

Harry frowned. "Now that we're what?"

She swallowed. "Well, I'm not really sure _what_ we are, Harry," she said, dropping her gaze. "I mean, umm, are you - do you - are we - "

"Yes," he said simply, cutting her off.

"Yes what?"

"Yes to everything."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you _trying_ to be funny?"

Harry brought them to a stop so he could face her fully. "I'm telling you that I am, and I do, and we are."

Hermione glared at him. "Explain."

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and met her gaze. " _I am_ happy with you; _I do_ want to be with you, and _we are_ together now. Is that enough of an explanation for you?"

Hermione just stared at him in a bit of disbelief. "You sound so sure," she eventually said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You were never like this with Cho," she pointed out.

"That's because you're not Cho," he said, only slightly irritated that she brought up the Ravenclaw. "Look, Hermione, I won't lie to you and say that I didn't like her, because I did, and for a very long time."

"But you don't like her anymore?"

Harry hesitated. "I can't say that either," he said slowly. "I want to tell you the truth, okay? It's important that you know that I'm still a little confused about several things, but I'm definitely sure about you."

Hermione blinked once before she shifted both their scarves with her gloved hands so she could kiss him. It was a quick one because it was freezing, and she was convinced her lips would fall off if they were exposed to the cold for too long.

When they started to walk again, Harry put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. It took them a moment to find a rhythm where their hips didn't bump uncomfortably. Harry liked this. He loved these simple moments with her, where the world seemed less scary and less demanding. When he was here with her, he didn't have to think about the _huge_ things that were expected of him. He could just _be_.

"What time did you say that your parents were coming home?" he asked.

"Probably around three o'clock," she said. "Why?"

Harry kissed the top of her head, through his scarf and through her beanie. "No reason."

She laughed lightly. "I think that they know about us," she said cautiously. "I mean, I know they've been back at work the past few days, but they _have_ eased up on the teasing, which makes me think that they know something."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"And I might have told my mum about the mistletoe-kiss," she confessed. "And some other things."

Harry looked at her. "What other things?"

She swallowed. "Well, Harry, to be completely honest, as we've decided to be; I _have_ liked you for quite some time now."

He stopped walking. "You have?"

She stood right in front of him, her hands resting on his chest. "I have."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Hermione absently started to unbutton his coat. "Well, there were a lot of reasons," she explained. "We're best friends, Harry, and I didn't want to ruin that if, you know, you didn't like me back, and then there was, well, _everything else_. There was Cho, and there was Professor Umbridge, and the DA, and we've just had to deal with so much, and the last thing I wanted to do was lump all of _my_ changing feelings on you."

Harry blinked, momentarily distracted by the feel of her hands on his chest once she'd managed to get through his coat.

"And, I mean, I've always wanted to be your friend first," she continued. "You're very special to me, and I wouldn't jeopardise that for anything. But then we kissed, and it was perfect, and then you wanted to do it again, and I did too, so now here we are."

"Here we are," he agreed, putting his arms around her shoulders. He shivered when Hermione tucked into his coat and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his chest, and Harry couldn't think of a more perfect moment in all his life.

"If we stay like this much longer; we might freeze in this position," she mumbled against his chest, and he chuckled.

Truthfully, Harry wouldn't mind that too much, but he was worried about her. "Do you want to go back?"

"Can we? I'm literally frozen."

Harry shifted their positions so that his one arm was around her again and she was still tucked into his large coat. He was surprised by how far they _hadn't_ managed to go, and they were back in the warmth of the house in next to no time.

Hermione rubbed at her arms before she scurried towards the fireplace. "I must like you a little too much to have agreed to that," she said, shaking off her coat and then removing it. "Oh my God." She did a little dance to warm herself up and all Harry could do was watch her with a stupid grin on his face.

"You did it because I promised you hot chocolate," he reminded her.

"With lots of those mini-marshmallows?"

"Oh yes."

She did another little dance, and Harry could have sworn that his heart leaped at the sight. She was amazing and perfect, and he didn't want to imagine a life without her. He'd never really thought that he would ever truly enjoy life the way that he was right now, and he had Hermione to thank for that.

Harry made their warm beverages while Hermione set up their blanket palace in the living room, and then the two of them settled in to watch yet another Christmas movie. Hermione learned early on that Harry was quite the sucker for them. There was just so much happiness in those kinds of films that it brought out the sunshine in him.

And, really, Harry had the purest of laughs when he was relaxed and uninhibited. His eyes lit up wonderfully and he turned rather _playful_. Hermione liked to think that she'd given him some kind of permission to be a kid, just through her own actions. Here, he didn't have to worry about what the great big world thought or expected of him. Here, he wasn't Harry _Potter_ ; he was 'just Harry,' and Hermione was distractingly in love with him.

As much as Hermione loved to drive him crazy with her hands, Harry liked to touch her as well. It was the simple things, really, as if he just needed to be sure that she was still there. He'd lean against her as they sat side by side on the floor, or he'd rest his knee against hers at the dinner table.

He was also a hand-holder, they both quickly learned. He confessed that he liked the way that their hands just _fit together_. He even went so far as to say that it was just another reason why they were perfect for each other.

Hermione liked when he said cute things, even if they were sometimes dreadful and cliché. He'd get all flustered whenever she called him on it, but that didn't stop him. The truth was that this thing between them was new to both of them. They'd both had crushes before, but this was their first real relationship, and it was a little terrifying.

What if something went wrong? What if they ended up breaking up? What would happen to them then?

Hermione forced herself not to think about it. Not now, when Harry was sitting right beside her, his fingers drawing patterns on her forearm under the blanket. It was so soothing and lovely, that she couldn't even pay attention to the movie.

Harry watched her face for the tells that he was quickly coming to learn. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affecting her. He lifted one of his hands to shift some hair away from her neck and leaned forward to kiss her soft skin. Hermione opened her mouth and sighed. And then she made a mewling sound that had him smiling against her skin.

"What was it that you said?" he asked, whispering against her, his breath making her shiver. " _So much_ more than satisfactory?"

Hermione gasped softly, turned her head to face him, grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him closer, and kissed him full on the mouth. It was one of those breathless kisses that made his heart thump in his chest. This was his life now and, bloody hell, it was amazing. Her hands. Such talented hands.

Hermione pushed on him until he was lying flat on his back with her on top of him. It was as if they knew that it wouldn't be like this when they returned to school, so it was okay that Hermione's hands snuck under the fabric of his shirt to caress his warm skin and it was also okay that Harry's hands bravely cupped and massaged her breasts.

So it was a truly odd scene that Jane and Michael returned home to. They found Harry and Hermione asleep in the living room, Hermione half on top of him, but more tucked into his side. They were covered in blankets, both of them looking particularly dishevelled as they _snuggled_.

"Umm," Michael said, looking at his wife curiously; "me thinks our baby girl has something to tell us."

Jane laughed lightly. "You thinks correctly, my dear."

* * *

His plan was a complete and utter failure.

Michael Granger took Harry to the dental practice with him on Sunday morning to try to scare the young wizard, but it didn't work. Spectacularly. The truth was that Hermione had warned Harry about all her father's tough-guy antics, and the teenager was prepared for what Hermione termed 'all bark and no bite.'

After they'd woken up from their impromptu afternoon nap, Harry and Hermione had been coaxed into divulging the status of their relationship, and Hermione had practically died and gone to heaven when Harry referred to them as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Later, Jane and Hermione had shared a little excited squeal, and then life had gone on.

Until Michael suggested that he and Harry leave the house to allow the girls to get ready for the party in peace. It seemed like a good idea to Harry and he happily went along with it. It had taken Hermione's warning to make him a little tense, but he was ready and willing to defend his relationship with her until he was blue in the face. It would be good practice for when they got back to school.

He and Hermione hadn't spent much time talking about what would happen when they got back to Hogwarts. They'd definitely have some explaining to do, them to Ron, and he to Cho. He didn't know that Hermione would probably have to explain herself to Ginny as well.

It was going to be such a mess. Especially when the rest of the school found out. And Voldemort! Harry forced himself not to think about the scenarios where Hermione was used against him. Merlin, he would give up everything he had - even the very air in his lungs - for her to remain safe and unharmed. And, the second someone truly figured that out, she would be in even more danger than she was for just being Harry Potter's friend. It was definitely something that they had to talk about.

"I've got an emergency root canal coming in," Michael explained as they entered the practice. "Joe's mum called in this morning; the kid apparently didn't get any sleep, and no other dentists are working today."

Harry just nodded as he followed Michael into the reception. The entrance room was massive, with couches and chairs lining the walls. There was a table in the centre of the room, piled up with magazines and colouring books. Harry especially loved the paintings on the walls. There was one that he especially liked that showed an incredibly large free-standing green apple. It was painted beautifully and Harry couldn't help staring at it.

"Do you mind being my assistant for the day?" Michael asked, sounding amused.

Harry smiled at him. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.

Michael loved Harry's enthusiasm. "Well, do you think you could go through the filing cabinets marked M. Granger there and find the file for Joseph Barry. That's spelt B-A-R-R-Y," he added with a grin.

Harry shook his head. "So then, I'd find it under...?"

Michael laughed out loud. "I always knew I was going to like you."

Before Michael could spot his pink cheeks, Harry disappeared behind the front desk into the little office and went in search of the required file. He was made vaguely aware of Michael moving further into the practice. Harry heard surgical sounds as equipment was fetched and prepared. It put him a little on edge, but he wasn't sure why. He'd never actually been to a dentist before. He'd never eaten enough sweet things to warrant it, and he'd been surprisingly lucky with all his baby teeth falling out in time, making sure that his grownup teeth wouldn't require attention.

And, he supposed, if they did; Madam Pomfrey would be able to take care of it.

Harry was startled by a knock on the door and he panicked. What was he supposed to do?

Thankfully, Michael heard the knock too and came out of one of the procedure rooms, dressed in a lab coat, and moved towards the door. He opened it to reveal a woman and a little boy, clearly mother and son. Harry just watched as Michael greeted them both, absently commenting on the boy's slightly swollen cheek.

When the woman spotted Harry, she smiled at him. "I see you're hiring them young, hey, Mick," she commented lightly.

"Oh yes," Michael said, laughing. "Harry, this is Fiona Barry and her son, Joe," he explained to the teenager. "They're good family friends of ours. Fi, this is Harry, he's a fr - " he stopped suddenly. No. Harry was much more than a friend of Hermione's. "Actually, he's Hermione's boyfriend."

Harry glanced at Michael, an odd feeling of _acceptance_ washing over him.

"Oh really?" Fiona asked, looking a tad bit surprised, and then she smiled, seemingly accepting the news. "Well, he looks a fine young man."

Michael nudged Harry gently with his elbow. "Oh, he is."

Harry was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by all the praise and attention, and he practically breathed a sigh of relief when Michael ushered mother and son further into the practice. Harry handed him the required file as he walked past, and Michael mentioned that there was extra filing he could do if he wanted to, while he waited. The teenager just nodded, and then desperately tried not to focus on the drilling sounds coming from somewhere in the practice.

Harry decided that, as much as he liked Jane and Michael, he was not a fan of dentists. There was just something about them, wasn't there?

Harry worked on a pile of files left on the front desk. Each file was for a different patient, and each patient had a different primary dentist. Harry noted that Jane had the smallest amount of patient files, which was probably because she was always so busy dealing with other things. From all that Harry learned about Jane from Hermione; he suspected that Jane's patients had to be special to her.

Harry was still working when they all came back out, Joe looking decidedly still _un_ comfortable. Just what had Michael done to the poor boy?

"Now, no eating anything for at least an hour," Michael reminded his patient. He looked at Fiona. "And no ice cream."

They all shared a laugh, and then the Barry family was leaving. They spared waves for Harry, and the teenager suspected that Fiona might have asked Michael quite a few questions about him, and his relationship with one Hermione Granger.

Their _relationship_. Because they were _together_ now.

Wow.

This was so not how Harry imagined this holiday would go.

"I'll tidy up quickly, and then we'll go," Michael said, getting his attention. "Or do you want to take a look around?"

Truth be told, the more that Michael showed him of the practice; the more Harry resolved to not liking dentists. Everything was just so white and surgical. And even the parts that were supposed to make children feel at ease made the wizard uncomfortable.

Eventually, they separated again, Harry returning to his filing and Michael returning to his procedure room. Michael knew that he would have to _talk_ to Harry about a few things. It was one thing that the boy was Hermione's best friend but things were different now. And, with students ending up dead; their next conversation was going to be very important.

Michael hurried up with disinfecting his equipment, switched off the lights and then headed back towards Harry.

"We should probably head out now," Michael suggested, having to break into Harry's concentration. "Or are you really so engrossed in your filing that you don't want to leave?"

Harry blushed. "No, we can go," he said, setting aside the files he was working on and standing up. "I just, umm, it was rather nice."

"What?"

"Not thinking for a while."

Michael regarded him for a moment. "There's a lot going on in that head of yours, isn't there?"

Harry nodded.

The older man placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and ignored the fact that he stiffened at the contact. "Well, I do believe that tonight's festivities shall be the distraction we all need," he said, leading Harry out of the office. They moved through to the reception area and Michael started to switch off the lights. "Jane was very tight-lipped about what either of them was wearing, so I'm guessing that they've decided to go all out and stun us to silence."

Harry could just imagine that happening, as he followed Michael out the front door. From the shock he'd had at the Yule Ball; Harry was sure he was going to end up dying when he saw Hermione later.

"There's this cafe down the road," Michael said, locking the door. "Feeling up for something warm to drink, and maybe a sandwich. They make the best chicken tikka. And I doubt Jane and Hermione are concerned with feeding us."

Harry eyed him, feeling a bit bold. "You just want to talk to me, don't you?"

Michael shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm not hungry."

It didn't take all that long to make the short walk from the practice to the cafe. They were quickly shown to a table and handed menus. Harry didn't like ordering without Hermione around, so he just ended up having the chicken tikka sandwich, exactly the same as Michael.

They'd just received their drinks when Michael truly started to speak.

"If anyone asks, let it be known that I was not the one who introduced to coffee," he said, smiling at Harry's Cafe Mocha. It was a mixture of coffee and hot chocolate and, well, Harry was feeling brave.

"So noted, sir," he replied, waiting expectantly.

Michael took a deep breath. "Look, Harry, I don't want to bore you with all I could say, but I definitely will say _this_ ," he began. "My daughter is very important to me. In fact, she means the entire world to me, but I don't expect you to understand that until you have children of your own. It's not something that can be explained, but know that, for Jane and me; Hermione will always come first.

"Now, I know what it's like to be your age, just starting a relationship... It probably feels like it's the entire world, doesn't it?"

Harry had to concede to that. Being here, right now, away from the Wizarding World; it meant everything. Hermione meant everything. But he wasn't unrealistic enough not to acknowledge that truly wasn't the case. He wouldn't be allowed to be a normal teenager where his girlfriend was the biggest part of his life. There was this other _huge_ thing with which he still had to deal.

"I remember what it was like," Michael continued. "Everything was new and exciting." He drifted off for a moment, lost in the memories. "My first girlfriend was not Jane, just so you know. It's quite rare that you do end up marrying your first boyfriend or girlfriend."

Harry wasn't quite sure what he felt about that. If that were the case for him and Hermione; that meant that they would probably break up at some point, which made him almost as uncomfortable as considering getting married - to Hermione, no less.

"What worries me, Harry, is that - well, honestly, there are a lot of things worrying me right now."

Harry remained silent, just listening.

"It's difficult, you know, knowing that she's a part of this entire separate world; knowing that there are two sides to your daughter. It's odd for me especially because I'm supposed to be able to protect her. I'm her father and _I'm_ the one she's supposed to turn to when she needs help or when she's in trouble, you know?" He took a deep breath. "But that isn't the case anymore, is it?"

Harry, once again, wisely didn't respond.

"I didn't really understand it until we were at the children's home, you know," he continued. "You're in the habit of getting things done, aren't you? When things went wrong with that kid, she looked at you. Not me, _you_ , and it truly was a sobering moment for me. Which is why, Harry, I need you to tell me all that I need to know. As her father, I believe that I deserve to know. Is she in danger?"

"Yes," Harry said automatically. There was no hesitation.

"Because of you?"

That gave him pause. "Yes, and no," he answered. "She would be in danger because she's a Muggleborn," he explained. "As my best friend, there was a greater target on her back, I suppose."

"And now?"

"Even greater."

Michael swallowed. "I assume she knows all this already, and she would kill the both of us if we ever tried to do something about it?"

Harry nodded. "She'd know if I ever tried to stay away from her," he said sadly; "and I really don't want to, sir, or even if I _can_ , so please don't ask me to do that."

Michael heard something new in Harry's voice; something like pleading and _longing_ , and it made him pay closer attention. "Do you love her, Harry?" he asked, watching the boy's face carefully.

Harry hesitated. "I thought maybe, uh, in some way... I - well, I don't quite know, sir," he said truthfully. "I thought that I would know, but I don't, because I've, well, umm, I can't say that I've ever truly experienced the feeling before."

Michael regarded him carefully. "At all?"

"I'm sure that my parents loved me," he said strongly. "But, umm, my relatives surely don't, and Sirius, well, maybe he loves the _idea_ of me, because he doesn't really know me at all. I suspect people care about me, but some are obliged to do so. There are also people who _think_ they love me, because of my money and my fame, and then there's Ron and Hermione. They're both my best friends but, I don't know, it's always been slightly _different_ with Hermione."

"And now?"

"Oh, now it's _very_ different."

Michael smiled. "Look, Harry, I can't _tell_ you what you feel, but I can try to help you understand it."

So Harry did his best to explain what he was feeling. He told Michael about his fears of losing her, in any way, and that he wanted to better himself so he would be worthy of her. Harry described the way she made his heart race and how just having her look at him gave him some kind of purpose, above and beyond what was already expected of him.

"The thing is, sir, that I trust her above all else, and I have this undying faith in her, because she's never failed me before. She saves me. Every day, she's saving me. I need her, and I won't survive losing her. I care about her, and I'll do everything I can to protect her. I don't what more I can say."

Michael just regarded him for a moment. "I think you've said enough, Harry."

The boy blinked. "Oh?"

Michael smiled at him. "Oh." Then he laughed. "Now, eat up; I think your food's gone cold."

Harry was surprised to learn that his food had arrived at some point. "Oh."

"Oh."

* * *

He was going to die.

Harry Potter could barely keep it together as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for Hermione to come down. He quite hated that he'd barely seen her all day. After he and Michael finished up their lunch, they returned to an empty house. Apparently Mum and daughter had gone out to _prettify_ themselves.

Both Michael and Harry had just shaken their heads and gone about the rest of their day. They both did some reading as they waited; tried a game of chess that Michael abandoned when he realised that Harry was more skilled than he'd first anticipated and snacked on unhealthy things.

When the girls got back, Harry had rushed to see Hermione. He practically jumped out of his seat and went in search of her, but Jane had shouted down from where they were already upstairs that they would just see him later.

And later was now.

Harry was wearing the suit Michael bought for him for Christmas, with a bowtie that he borrowed. Really, he and Michael were dressed exactly the same, and that made Harry feel, well, _warm_.

Which was a feeling that increased when Jane appeared, and told him that he looked dashing. Harry managed to tell her that she looked pretty, but the words got stuck in his throat because, well, then Hermione appeared at the top of the stairs.

It wasn't that time stopped. It rather hesitated; it too wanting to experience the perfection that was Hermione Granger. She was wearing a long, deep red dress that seemed to flow down her body. Her hair was curled and pinned up in a way that made Harry want to run his hands through it.

When she met Harry's gaze, he realised for the first time that he'd yet to take a breath. How was one to breathe when a human being could look like _that_?

"Close your mouth, Harry," Jane said, sounding terribly amused. Then she turned to her daughter. "Sweetie, say something Hermione-like, so he knows it's you."

Hermione's cheeks flamed red at the sound of that and she dropped her gaze and started to walk down the stairs. She placed a hand on the bannister, captivating Harry. Her movements were so graceful and he was totally, unashamedly mesmerised.

When Hermione reached the last stair, Michael gently nudged Harry forward and the teenager took a hesitant step towards Hermione. He put out his hand and forced his mouth to speak.

"You look amazing, Hermione."

She looked surprised for a moment, before her face broke out in a wide smile. "Thank you, Harry," she said softly, taking hold of his hand and squeezing his fingers. She was, admittedly, a little embarrassed by the way he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. "You look handsome yourself, Mr Potter," she said, sounding much calmer than she felt.

Harry reached out with his free hand and gently touched her chin, making her look at him. Her skin was so soft and warm, and he desperately wanted to kiss her. "My pretty girl," he whispered before dropping a soft kiss to her cheek. She smelt wonderful, fruity and _young_.

Hermione blushed again. Well, really, she didn't think that she'd ever stopped. Even now, his eyes weren't looking anywhere but at her. How was she supposed to survive an entire evening of this?

Harry was going to pass out. He could feel it. She was stealing his breath and all she was doing was holding his hand.

"Are you two ready to go?" Michael asked them, grinning.

Hermione calmed Harry by rolling her eyes. "Okay, Dad."

Jane laughed. "Hermione, I've got your shawl."

"Thank you, Mum," she said, releasing Harry's hand and moving forward, leaving Harry to watch her in complete awe. She took her shawl from her mother, who helped her drape it over her shoulders. And then she looked back at him, and winked.

"Close your mouth, Harry," Michael said, laughing at the boy's facial expression. "You'll catch snowflakes when we go outside if you don't."

Harry turned to look at Michael, his mind suddenly a lot clearer. "Yes," he said, and Michael frowned, showing his confusion. "The question you asked me earlier; the thing I didn't quite know," he elaborated; "I know now." He sounded so sure; so confident. "So, yes," he said, looking Michael in the eye; "I do. I really do."

Michael just blinked, and both Jane and Hermione looked confused.

Before Hermione could question them, Michael recovered and proceeded to usher them all out of the house. They had a substantial drive ahead of them, of which the four of them spent the first half hour going over Hermione's cover story for Hogwarts once again. Jane admitted that nobody in Michael's family knew about Hermione's true abilities, but her own parents did.

"Mum's a lot closer to her parents than Dad is," Hermione explained. "It's a complicated situation."

Michael looked at the teenagers in the backseat through the rearview mirror. "It's okay to tell him, sweetheart," he said to Hermione. "He's about to walk into a minefield; you may as well prepare him."

Jane made a sound that resembled a growl, but Harry couldn't be sure.

Hermione turned her body slightly to face Harry, though she did not lean towards him. Potholes happened and hands went places, so she wasn't going to chance it. "Well, as you already know, Dad is the youngest in his, umm, immediate family, so they all pretty much grew up before he was born. It isn't that they don't get on; it's just that, well..."

"We don't get on," Michael clarified. "Not really. We're polite, but there's always underlying meaning in the things they say sometimes, and I hate it."

Hermione nodded. "See, my dad comes from a rather prominent family in London, and his family is convinced that he married beneath him," she said bluntly, and Harry's jaw dropped. But...? "I know, Harry," she said, patting his leg. "It's all so very stupid, really, but it's just the way they are. Posh people don't marry commoners, so they're convinced that Mum married Dad for his money." She shook her head. "And also, well, I think that's why Mum does _so_ much, just to stick it to them and show them she can be successful without family money."

Harry worried for Hermione, when she said that, but Jane made no comment. Clearly, this was all something that was known, not particularly _liked_ , but still somehow accepted. To be honest, Harry didn't like it at all. Jane was amazing. Truly.

"There's also a lot of internal, unspoken competition," Hermione continued. "Who drives the best car, whose kids are the smartest, who dresses the best, who dates the best people... all that kind of unnecessary material stuff."

"I take it that they'll be rather interested in me then?" he asked quietly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jane replied. "They're not exactly tactful."

Harry sighed.

Hermione locked her eyes on his. "I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it. "I know how much you hate the attention."

"That's for something I don't even remember doing," he said, placing a hand over her one that was still on his thigh. "I don't think I'll mind facing unwanted attention when it's because you chose me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I chose you?"

"Didn't you?"

Hermione thought about it for a little while, her mind running through all the possible things he could be talking about. And then she smiled. The _Secret Santa_. "I did choose you."

Harry returned her smile, his eyes shining. "I'm yours now," he said, and then retracted. "Or, really, I've always been."

Hermione's cheeks burned and she really wanted to kiss him in that moment. How could he start with all his cuteness when they were in a car _with her parents_? She'd just have to save it for later, when they were alone, and she could _do_ all sorts of things to him.

In next to no time, Michael was pulling into the parking garage of the hotel that would be hosting this particular Granger function. "It's probably going to be so over the top," he whined, as he turned off the car. "Nicky was in charge of decor this year."

For a while, none of them moved.

"Remind me why we're here again."

Jane sighed. "As much talk as we're about to face," she said to her husband, sounding diplomatic; "it won't even come close to the backlash we'd suffer if we didn't attend. I told you we should have gone to Bali for the holidays."

Michael chuckled as he finally opened the door, the rest of them following suit. Harry and Hermione started on their way towards the elevator, hand-in-hand, each of them not quite sure how they were feeling about the evening they were about to endure.

Hermione squeezed Harry's hand, getting his attention. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly, leaning into him as they stood and waited for her parents to join them.

He looked at her. "What would you do if I were to say no?"

"Wait right here until you were," she answered simply. " _And_ probably freeze to death."

"As far as, you know, death goes; I'd think it wouldn't be the _worst_ way to go," he said, touching on topics rarely discussed.

Hermione reached up to kiss his cheek. "Then we'll wait as long as you need."

Harry blinked once, finally accepting what he'd told Michael as the solid truth.

_He loved her._

He was desperately in love with Hermione Granger.


	10. Chapter 10

**X**

He was in hell.

Harry Potter would have much rather faced off against Professor Umbridge than have to endure another probing question from Hermione's family. He felt somewhat violated, really, and utterly exhausted. He'd balked at Michael's idea of this evening being like navigating through a minefield, but now he agreed. In fact, this was worse. At least if you stood on an actual landmine, you were offered the mercy of death.

But this... Merlin, it was _painful_.

A certain silence had fallen over the banquet hall when they'd entered, all eyes landing on them, and then there'd been an eruption of murmuring. A lot of it. Two minutes later, they were surrounded, and Hermione's grip on his arm tightened until it hurt. Harry was sure he would end up bruising.

The four of them had done the rounds, and Hermione constantly asked him if he was okay. She also apologised a hell of a lot.

The most notable meeting was with Hermione's Aunt Nicole, the woman responsible for organising this year's party. Harry immediately didn't like her. She talked with a certain _air_ to her, as if she knew that she was better than all those around her.

Harry suddenly couldn't wait until he was old enough to claim his full inheritance, just so he could show this horrible woman what _rich_ was. It was a thought that made him extremely uncomfortable, because he'd never cared about money, but these people just brought it out of him. Hermione had to drag him away to calm him, as they went in search of drinks.

"Don't let her get under your skin," Hermione whispered to him. "She's that rude to everybody; not just Mum."

"How can you stand it?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I mean, she kind of reminds me of Umbridge."

"I was just thinking that too," she said, laughing with him. "It's the painfully pink dress she's wearing. It's hurting my eyes."

"You just hate the colour pink," he pointed out.

"I do not," she countered. "I just don't see how a professor could expect to be taken seriously when she's dressed in a pink suit. A pink suit, Harry! I mean, I get that the Wizarding World is a little backwards, but that's a little too much, don't you think?"

"You won't hear me arguing, Hermione."

Harry and Hermione continued to do the rounds with her parents until Hermione's Aunt Nicole moved to the podium at the front of the hall. She used a microphone to get everyone's attention and invited them all to find their seats. They'd had to squeeze Harry in to the original seating plan, so he was sitting that much closer to her Hermione. Not that either of the teenagers truly minded.

To Harry's left was Hermione's only younger cousin, Haymitch Granger. That was how he introduced himself, but Hermione continually called him 'Mitch,' much to his chagrin. Harry found it rather amusing, and he was starting to think that the eye-roll was truly a Granger characteristic.

"Oh, there she goes again," Haymitch said, when Nicole took to the podium once more to welcome them all and do a _brief_ overview of the year.

It was anything but brief. Harry even lifted his bread knife and mocked stabbing himself in the chest, which made both Hermione and Haymitch laugh. Hermione ended up pulling out a pen from her purse and the three of them started playing _Hangman_ on the back of their menus. Michael just looked deathly amused by their antics, and Jane tried to show she disapproved, but her smile was a dead giveaway.

When dinner was finally served, Harry and Hermione ate quietly. As much as the evening was shot to hell, they had to concede that the food was delicious. There was a set menu, with each person able to tailor-make their entire meal from a selection of starters, mains and desserts.

Harry and Hermione picked different things, just so they could swap their dishes halfway through. It was an action that didn't go unnoticed, but nobody made any comments, despite their obvious amusement.

After dinner was served, they were required to - what was it again - _mingle_. Hermione mentioned that she would rather be sitting on Harry's famous large rock at the Black Lake in her birthday suit than deal with this.

Harry laughed, and then immediately stilled as a Hermione in a birthday suit flashed through his mind.

Hermione noticed, and she blushed. "Naughty little sunshine kid," she said lightly.

"I'm a teenage boy, Hermione," he muttered, looking away for a moment. "You can't go around saying things like that."

She giggled. "And, unfortunately, I'm a human girl, and I've got to run to the loo," she said, absently touching his chest. "Do you think you'll be all right for a little while?"

He nodded. "I'll grab a drink and find Haymitch," he said easily. "Just, you know, hurry back, Granger."

Hermione kissed his cheek, and then headed off.

For a while, Harry watched her go, and then he did as he told her he would do. He went to fetch himself a drink - a _Coke_ \- and then he went looking for Haymitch. When he couldn't find the preteen, Harry returned to their table and resolved to wait for Hermione to get back. She wouldn't be that long, surely, and nothing was bound to happen to him in that time, right?

Wrong.

"So you're the one here with Hermione?"

Harry looked up to spy a girl a little older than him, looking down at him as if she'd stepped in some dirt. She was wearing a ghastly yellow thing that made him squint. Truthfully, she reminded him of his Aunt Petunia, and that was enough to make him shudder.

"How much did they pay you?"

Harry frowned. "Excuse me?"

The girl laughed hauntingly. "Oh, come off it," she said, waving a hand. "There is no way that Hermione could have managed to catch _you_."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?"

"Oh, I'm Norah," she said. "Hermione's cousin."

"I see," he said, standing up so he could be level with her. "And you came over here to determine if I'm good enough for her, right, because you care deeply about her, right?"

Norah blinked, and then she laughed. "You're a hoot, did you know that?"

Harry felt his anger start to build and, for the first time, he wanted to say something harsh, just to wipe that smug smile off her face. How dare she even try to insinuate such a thing, and _to his face_? How dare she -

His anger instantly fell away.

Hermione's hand came to rest on the back of his neck, and he immediately relaxed. Her hands were magic; they had to be.

"Oh, Harry, I see you met Norah," she said, her voice slightly higher in pitch. "I hope she wasn't bombarding you with questions. She's terribly nosy sometimes."

Harry couldn't help his smile, particularly when Norah gasped.

"Nothing like that, Hermione," Norah said coolly; "I was just asking him why he was sitting here all by himself. Surely his date should have been paying more attention to him. I know I would."

Hermione tensed at his side, and Harry stood up straighter.

"Actually," he said, looking at Hermione; "she was curious as to how much you paid me to accompany you tonight."

Norah gasped again, clearly not expecting Harry to be so truthful.

Hermione looked at Harry, the clear hurt flashing across her face for a moment, before it was replaced by a potent mixture of anger and mischief. "And what did you tell her?" she asked.

"Oh, just that I demanded your hand in marriage and the sacrifice of your first born child as payment," he answered easily, and then they both burst out laughing, leaving Norah looking utterly confused.

Hermione turned her attention to her older cousin. "Thank you for keeping my date company while I was in the loo," she said, sounding slightly amused. "But I'm here now, so you can go." Hermione turned to face Harry, and he did the same, rudely shutting Norah out of their little world.

Hermione waited until she heard the huff, and then the yellow was gone, before she spoke again. "Oh my God, Harry; I am _so_ sorry! So very sorry."

Harry didn't even tell her that it was okay because, honestly, it wasn't. "Do you have to deal with this every year?"

She nodded, absently biting her bottom lip. "But they're not all like that," she explained. "The older ones are copies of their parents, but then there's the boys: Ben, Frankie and Mitch."

Harry laughed lightly, his hands touching her waist and pulling her close to him. "I think you mean _Hay_ mitch," he said. "That's what he calls himself now."

Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, I still don't know what my aunt and uncle were thinking when they picked that name. Their other kids have such normal names."

"We can't even talk," he said, stepping towards her. "I mean, as far as names in the Wizarding World go; we should count ourselves lucky."

"Oh yes," she said, laughing as her arms slipped around his neck. "Some of the names are simply horrific."

"Like Draco Malfoy," he said, grinning. "And Zacharias."

Hermione gently flicked his ear. "You just don't like Smith," she said; "it isn't the worst name around. I mean, it's definitely not Mundungus Fletcher, or Sturgis Podmore."

"Or Nymphadora," he added, both of them giggling at that.

Hermione ran a hand through his hair. "Are you feeling a bit better?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "Just, you know, never leave me alone again."

"I think that you should know by now, Mr Potter, that, if I had the power; I would never leave you alone ever again."

Harry suddenly hugged her to him, surprising her. If they weren't in a crowded room, he might have kissed her, but he wasn't sure how she would feel about that public a display of affection.

Hermione returned his hug, realising that he needed it in this moment. How had she ever thought subjecting him to this would be a good idea? Maybe it would have been better for her parents to pretend that she was still at school like she was the previous year.

No. They were supposed to be enjoying this night.

"Dance with me," she automatically said, her mouth running away before she could fully formulate the thought.

Harry's eyes widened. "What?"

She released him so she could see his face. "Come on, dance with me."

"You're serious?"

She nodded. "It'll be fun."

"I think that you and I have two very different definitions of the word 'fun,' Hermione," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you like having your toes?"

"It'll be fine, Harry," she said, laughing. "Just one dance. It'll be a slow one. Just one."

Harry exaggerated a sigh. "Fine," he eventually relented, knowing that he would have given in either way. From the moment she brought it up, he knew that he would do whatever she wanted. He didn't think that that would ever change. Barely two weeks in, and Harry couldn't imagine life without her. He never wanted to.

Hermione quickly kissed his cheek, grabbed his hand, and then dragged him towards the dance floor. There weren't many people dancing, but there were enough for it not to be awkward. Though, it still was a little awkward in the beginning, with hands not knowing where to go and Harry constantly looking down at their feet. It wasn't quite a slow song playing, but the two of them eventually found a rhythm, and then that was that.

One dance turned into two, and then another and another. Harry didn't recognise much of the music, but Hermione seemed to know the words to a lot of songs. It was almost unnatural.

"I love music," she informed him, noticing his slightly baffled expression. "A lot."

"I didn't know," he confessed. Here he was, _still_ learning new things about this wonderful, perfect girl. He loved it.

"I like to listen to it, and I like to play it," she continued. "Mum's had me taking piano lessons since I was six years old. I used to hate them because I thought they would take away from my time with friends, but I needn't have worried because I never actually had any friends."

Harry's features softened. "And then you met us."

"And I still didn't have friends."

Harry blushed. "But we quickly came to our senses."

"You just needed a mountain troll to make it happen," she said, giggling.

Harry's eyes locked on hers. "Do you ever think about what would have happened if you'd been alone with that troll?" he asked quietly, slowing his movements as the music changed to a much slower song. Harry liked the slower ones, mainly because he could bring her in nice and close and just _hold her_.

"Not for a while," she said. "I mean, we all know what _could_ have happened, but none of that did, so there's no need to dwell on it. But it _is_ the night that the three of us became friends, so, in some way, I'm glad it happened. It was the beginning for us."

"Is that why that was the first journal you decided to use?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'll use them in chronological order," she elaborated. "So, next would be the Snitch, broomsticks and flames, and then the one with me brewing the oh-so-illegal Polyjuice Potion. Next, I'd use the _truly lovely_ one of me as a human cat."

He couldn't help his grin.

"Though, the one with us just about to use the Time Turner has to be my favourite one," she admitted. "I might even save that one for last." She looked thoughtful. "But, you know, as terrifying as it was riding Buckbeak, I'm glad it's one of the journals. I always loved how happy you were, especially knowing that we'd somehow succeeded."

Harry blinked. "You remember all of them?" he asked, whispering.

"Of course I remember, Harry," she said, her fingers touching the skin of his cheek. "They're very special to me."

"Like I am?" he asked, winking.

"Do you even have to ask?"

Harry laughed.

"Now, less talking, more dancing," she declared. "We better enjoy the music before it descends into a late-night _Take That_ oldies' fest."

Harry frowned. "Huh?"

"Oh, well, you see, at a certain time in the evening, majority of the adults will be sufficiently drunk for them to start losing various items of clothes, singing _Take That_ songs at the top of their lungs and falling over themselves on the dance floor."

Harry wasn't sure what to do with that bit of information. "That sounds... interesting."

"That's definitely a polite way to put it."

Harry eventually conceded to more dancing, less talking. And, before either of them knew it, several voices were ringing out in the hall, indicating that it was time to welcome in the New Year. They immediately stopped moving, the reality of this moment sinking in.

Harry barely heard the countdown. She was looking at him, and he was looking at her. The entire world simply fell away, entirely unimportant in this monumental moment in time. Really, it was as if time slowed down, and took his heartbeat with it.

 _I love you_.

It would be so simple to say it, but the words wouldn't come. Maybe they reflected in his eyes, he didn't know, because she suddenly smiled, and he could have sworn that he saw it too, as clear as day.

 _She loves me too_.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Harry didn't dare look away from Hermione. She was the one to step towards him first, and then they were kissing right into the new year. Hermione held onto the lapels of his jacket as her knees threatened to buckle but his arm around her waist held her up.

"Oi, Hermione," a voice said, and the pair broke apart to find one of Hermione's cousins, Benjamin, smirking at them. "Are you _trying_ to scar us?"

The witch blushed. "Oh, hush you," she said, shaking her head. "Where's Poppy?" she asked, referring to his longtime girlfriend.

The eighteen-year-old was still sporting an amused look. "On holiday with her folks," he answered, shrugging. "I'll see her in a couple of days, so it's no biggie. No New Year's kiss for me unfortunately, but _you_! Who's this fine fellow?"

Hermione turned to Harry. "Oh, this is Harry Potter, my boyfriend." It still felt a little odd saying it out loud, but she was definitely getting used to it. "Harry, this is my cousin, Benjamin Collins." She looked at Ben. "Where have you been all night, by the way?"

He gave her a bit of a naughty smile. "Well, you know, as much _fun_ as this always is; I was actually playing in a gig tonight."

Hermione bounced slightly. "Oh, that's wonderful!" She turned to Harry. "Ben's the frontman of this band called, umm, The Bearded Dragons. They're great, truly great."

Ben also turned to Harry. "She's literally the only person who's even bothered to give us a listen," he told the wizard, and Harry wasn't even surprised. Hermione was that type of person. "While all the other Granger kids are becoming engineers and barristers; all I want to do is play music, and that doesn't exactly sit well with the powers that be."

Hermione went still. "Your mum still hasn't released your trust fund?"

"Increased it to when I'm twenty-one," he said, sounding a little irritated. "And that's _only_ if I get a college degree first."

Hermione could think of many things she could say to make him feel better but she decided against them. "My dad said that you'd entered in this festival competition thing," she said instead; "and if you win, you'll get to be the opening act for, umm... someone famous?"

Ben chuckled. "We did," he said; "but it's all the way in Manchester, and there's no way we could afford to go." He sighed. "Maybe it's for the best, you know; it _is_ a difficult market to break into anyway, especially with all these boybands popping up left, right and centre."

"But you guys are so good," she argued. "I wouldn't give up just yet, okay? Anything could happen."

Even Harry believed her.

For a moment, he thought that she might even be a natural, unwitting Legilimens. Which probably would have explained a lot, if he were being completely honest.

It was only much later on the way home that Hermione mentioned to her parents the idea of sponsoring Ben and his band. It was such a Harry thing to suggest, and he looked at her proudly. He reached for her hand across the backseat, entwining their fingers.

Jane and Michael discussed it for a moment.

"We'd have to do it without your sister ever knowing," Jane said, talking to Michael. "And, if she ever found out, well there would be hell to pay. I don't think that you and I interfering with how your sister parents her son is a good idea, Mick. It's one thing to _tell_ them what we think, but an entirely different thing to go against their wishes."

Michael was inclined to agree with his wife, and even Hermione had to concede that it would probably cause more problems.

"What if I loaned them the money?" Harry asked, breaking into the family discussion.

"Oh, Harry," Jane immediately said. "There's no need - "

He cut her off, wary of just how rude he was being. "I want to," he said strongly. "I've seen other people who are very passionate about what they do have to fight through their parents' expectations before, and I want to help."

It was Hermione who explained Harry's investment into Fred and George Weasley's joke shop plans. From the way that she spoke about the entire situation, one could tell that she both disapproved of and admired what Harry had done for the twins. She understood following one's passion but, to her, school would always come first, and that would never change.

"And, if anyone ever found out, well, it wouldn't be as bad as if it came from you," Harry added, thinking it would clinch it.

It didn't.

Harry had to do quite a bit more convincing, before Jane and Michael eventually relented. They wouldn't be able to stop him, but they made sure to let him know that they weren't asking him. Hermione repeatedly told him that he didn't have to do anything, but Harry truly wanted to. He wouldn't be able to explain _why_ it was so important to him but it just was.

By the time they were back in Oxfordshire, it was almost three o'clock in the morning, but neither of the teenagers were particularly tired. Jane and Michael retired to bed as soon as they got home, while Harry and Hermione settled down in the living room and watched coverage of the New Year's celebrations going on around the world.

"Can you believe that it isn't yet the New Year in other parts of the world?" Hermione asked, snuggling further into Harry's side as they sat on the couch. "That, somewhere in the world right now, there are people who are still _preparing_ to celebrate?"

"There are millions, billions of people out there, living their own lives," he said, tightening his arm around her. "It makes a person feel truly insignificant, doesn't it?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "You're significant to me, Harry Potter."

"I know," he said, absently playing with her now-loosened hair. "But it's more than that, isn't it? There are _so_ many people in this world, and so many of them have no idea what kind of danger they could be in if we can't stop Voldemort."

"Harry," she said, turning her head to look at him. "We're going to stop him. I'm sure of it."

"But how many people have to die for that to happen, Hermione?"

She kissed the underside of his chin. "I don't know," she said, resting her head against him again. "People die in War."

This time, he kissed the top of her head. "I won't let anything happen to you, Hermione," he said, his eyes closing. "I won't survive it."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say to him, so she didn't say anything at all. Instead, she just sat with him, each of them embracing their own silence. He loved the quiet with Hermione. He could feel her breathing, her chest rising and falling against his side.

When her breathing started to even out, Harry shifted and suggested that they head up to bed.

Harry walked her right to her bedroom door, eventually bringing them to a stop. He twirled her once and laughed at her giggle. "Does this count as our first date?" he asked, pulling her in nice and close to him. He slipped his arms around her waist, and her arms automatically went around his neck.

"No," she said. "God no."

Harry laughed. "We'll go on a proper date, umm... Our next trip to Hogsmeade?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. She did not want her first date with Harry Potter to be in a place where the entire Wizarding World would be watching. "Maybe I can ask my parents if they can drop us off somewhere on Saturday," she suggested. "Maybe the mall. Just to, uh, you know, _hang out_?"

"Saturday, huh? That'll be the sixth, right?"

She frowned slightly. "Umm, yeah, the sixth. Why?"

"No reason."

"Harry?"

"I think it's a good idea, Hermione," he said seriously. "We'll go on a date."

She nodded. "We'll go on a date."

"But now, I'm going to have to say goodnight, pretty girl," he said, lifting a hand to tuck some loose hair behind her ear. He breathed out. "God was showing off when he made you."

She blushed a deep scarlet. "Harry Potter," she said; "you are honestly my favourite person in this great big world."

Harry leaned in to kiss her, his hands immediately bringing her flush against him, their chests colliding. He was just glad that her parents had already gone to bed because, the next thing either of them knew; Hermione was pressed up against her bedroom door, her hands pinned above her head.

They stayed that way for several minutes, the only sounds in the passage the sounds of urgent kissing and heavy breathing.

It was Hermione who broke the kiss first, absently pushing on his chest. "Potter," she said breathlessly. "Just what are we doing?"

He just grinned at her. "It's the New Year, Hermione," he said softly, as if it explained everything.

And, in that moment, it did. Hermione kissed him one more time before she finally bid him goodnight. "I'll see you in the morning."

"It's already the morning, Hermione."

"Well then I'll see you _later_ ," she said, rolling her eyes.

Harry didn't release her.

"Harry," she said. "I have to go to sleep, and so do you. So, now, turn around and march to your bedroom before I go a little crazy and drag you into my bedroom with me."

Harry's eyes widened. "And you call me the naughty one."

She kissed him one last time. How could she not? "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

_I love you._

* * *

The next few days passed easily. With all their homework done, Harry and Hermione were able to enjoy their holiday without guilt, though she did make him read up on the Shield Spell, as well as the Patronus Charm, which were the next two spells that they would get the DA working on.

Jane and Michael were a little wary of going back to work and leaving the teenagers alone, now that their relationship status had changed, but Hermione was a truly convincing advocate. And plus, it wasn't as if they actually _did_ anything more than kiss. And touch.

Jane and Harry made dinner every night. In fact, they requested to do it, just so they could try out the new recipes from Harry's recipe book. Hermione didn't really _help_ , but she liked to sit in the kitchen with them when they worked anyway. There was just something different about Harry when he was cooking. He was more confident, more sure of himself, and Hermione found it incredibly attractive.

It was on the first Thursday of 1996 that Hermione reasoned that she was going to have to tell Harry how she truly felt _before_ they went back to school. As yet, they'd avoided conversations about deep feelings and about how the Wizarding World would react to the news that their Boy-Who-Lived was dating a Muggleborn.

She waited until after dinner to talk to him. She'd gone up to shower, and then sat on her bed, writing in her journal, waiting for the boy who would inevitably come. She didn't have to wait very long for the knock, and then Harry Potter was bounding into her bedroom sporting a naughty little grin.

Hermione loved this Harry. He was so light, and he looked so happy. She was still trying to get over the fact that she had a little something to do with it. It was _too_ much to accept sometimes. _That_ smile was for her.

Harry casually hopped onto the bed, sloppily kissed her cheek and then asked her the question he usually did. "Anything about me today?"

She giggled. "I swear you ask this question just to boost your ego," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Put yourself in my shoes," he said. "Wouldn't you be curious too?"

Hermione closed her journal and set it aside. "There is actually something that I wanted to talk to you about," she said seriously.

Harry stiffened slightly, but he still gave her his full attention. "What's on your mind?"

She was momentarily distracted by the intensity of his eyes, and it took her a moment to ground herself again. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

She blinked slowly, steeling herself. "I love you," she said quietly.

His movements stilled.

When he didn't respond, she added: "I just thought that you ought to know that you make everything okay too. You always do." She'd barely finished speaking when Harry was suddenly on top of her, knocking the breath right out of her.

Harry didn't say anything. His heart was beating too fast for him to produce words, so he rather just kissed her. His lips moved over hers slowly, purposefully, as if he could somehow convey his feelings to her through his actions rather than his flailing words.

Hermione didn't need to hear the words. Harry Potter already said more than enough through his actions.

Harry eventually pulled away and lifted himself up so he could look at her. His gaze was intense but Hermione didn't shy away from it. The last thing she wanted was to look away from him. This was Harry, and he was _hers_.

Harry dropped his head, his lips brushing against hers, and whispered the words that would forever own her. "I love you too."

Despite deciding that she didn't need the words, Hermione still gasped. "You do?"

Harry didn't try to diminish her concern. If he hadn't seen it in her eyes; he'd be asking the question too. "I worked it out," he said proudly, hovering above her and not letting her look away. "You listen to me when I have a problem... In fact, you force me to talk sometimes, and you help dry my tears. You're the one to take away all my pain, anger and sorrow, and put warmth and happiness in its place. I managed to work out what it all means, and I love you, Hermione. I know it."

Hermione just stared up at him, her breath failing her.

"And, truly, we always did look at each other a little too long for 'just friends,' don't you think?"

Hermione giggled, still in a bit of disbelief.

"And our hands fit perfectly," he added, as if it made all the difference. "Like puzzle pieces. Made for each other."

There he went again with his cute sentiments. Hermione's heart swelled in her chest; she was literally bursting with _emotion_. "You are so weird," she said, smiling widely.

Harry kissed her quickly before he sat up, his entire demeanour turning serious. "I'm scared of what I'm feeling," he said truthfully, watching as she sat up as well. "It's all _so much_ , and I never want it to go away, Hermione. I never want to stop feeling this thing I'm feeling for you, and for us, and for what's to come. Because I get it now; I see what Krum saw, and what Cho sees.

" _You and me_. We have the best kind of relationship... one that will last, because we're friends first, and that's what makes us so great. It makes me think that it was only a matter of time before, one day, I woke up and a switch was flipped. Before, you were just my best friend, but now when I see you, I just think 'oh, there you are. I've been looking for you.' Suddenly, you're the only person I could ever imagine myself with."

Hermione blinked once, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Suddenly, I feel like my 'I love you' falls short," she said in a small voice.

"You could just kiss me," he suggested; "it's practically the same thing."

Hermione reached for his closest hand and brought it up to her mouth, placing a kiss against the skin of his palm. "Are we going to talk about what's going to happen when we get back to school?" she asked, wary of bringing up the topic.

Harry sighed. "I know we should, but I really don't want to."

Hermione just eyed him.

"Okay, okay, what do you want to discuss, pretty girl?"

She shifted slightly. "Well, based on what we went through last year; I think I know what to expect," she said thoughtfully. "Though, the Wizarding World has a different opinion of you this year."

"Do they?" he scoffed. "Last year I was a cheat, and now I'm a liar. I think they all still think the same."

"So does that mean I should expect a visit to the Hospital Wing?"

"No," he said, frowning. "We'll screen your mail, and I don't think it will be a good idea for you to be out alone for a little while."

Hermione paled. "Do you actually think someone in the Castle would try to attack me?"

"I don't intend to take any chances, Hermione," he said, his eyes locking on hers. "I can't have anything happen to you, all right? Whether it be a Death Nibbler or a disillusioned fangirl. You're too important to me and I intend for everyone to know that."

"Just, you know, maybe we should break it to Ron first," she said, feeling a little overwhelmed. "He'll probably worry about how this will change our Trio dynamic." She didn't mention that she intended to have a talk with Ginny as well. She really hoped that the redhead wouldn't see this as some kind of betrayal, because it wasn't. It wasn't Hermione's fault that Harry happened to like her back.

No. He _loved_ her.

"Which it won't," she added breathlessly. "You'll just have to make sure that you spend time with him, okay? Time without me."

Harry frowned. "But I don't want to spend _any_ time without you," he said, pouting.

"That's statistically improbable, Harry," she said, trying to ignore her own blush. Why did he say all these cute things, and say them while doing that with his cute face? "And I will not be sneaking off to random little dingy places."

"On no, definitely not," he said, raising a fist into the air. "Only the best for my pretty girl."

"I assume that you've given this a bit of thought then?"

Harry merely smirked, before he was suddenly on top of her again, both of them _still_ breathless. "I intend to kiss you for all you're worth while we're still alone," he said breathily. "How does that sound?"

Hermione's hands moved to his neck, absently bringing his head down so that they could get started. There were still so many things that she was uncertain about, but she had never been more sure of him until this very moment.

Harry loved _her_.

Wow.

Hermione had to admit that there had been _a day_ for her as well; a day when she woke up and a switch was flipped. One day, she just saw him differently. It wasn't any one thing, but many things. She'd told her mother that somewhere along their wonderful friendship; he just became something _more_.

"Hermione," he breathed, pulling back so he could look at her again. "Can I ask you something? But you have to promise not to laugh, or get mad at me. I'm just curious."

Hermione managed to nod, trying desperately not to focus on how wonderful it felt to have his weight pressing down on her.

"I'm a little afraid of you sometimes, so don't, you know, hurt me or anything," he added. "But I just have to ask, umm, did you truly pick me out of the hat, and I picked you, or was that, you know, umm planned? Because you said you liked me, and then your mum was going on about how rare that would be in such a big group, and I was just wondering, you know..."

Hermione waited a beat before she laughed lightly. "Of course I didn't plan it, Harry," she said, sounding amused. "I was just as surprised as you were."

Harry could see the truth in her eyes.

Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't do that to you, Harry," she said seriously. "At least, not without you asking me to, all right? I would never try to manipulate you like that."

Harry was surprised by his own relief.

"As your girlfriend, I can't promise that I won't try to convince you to do things that I want, but never like that," she said, equal parts serious and playful.

"So, what would you like me to do right now?" he asked, settling down on her a little more and using his elbows to support himself.

"Do you even have to ask?"

Harry laughed. "We could totally put that on a t-shirt," he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. And then her other cheek, her chin, along her jaw before finally kissing her lips.

"Speaking of t-shirts," she murmured, her hands sneaking under his t-shirt and running her fingers over his warm skin. She bunched up the fabric in her hands and lifted, clearly indicating what she wanted to do.

Harry pulled back suddenly. "Oh no, Hermione Granger," he said, shaking his head. "I quite like having your parents like me, you know? Those hands better behave."

Hermione bit her bottom lip but dutifully retracted her hands. "It amazes me that _you're_ the one who's thinking clearly," she said, her eyes closing for a long moment.

"My fear of your parents kind of sits on my brain," he admitted. "But, by all means, when they're at work tomorrow; your hands can misbehave all they want."

She pulled him down for another - less passionate - kiss, a small smile playing on her face. "So noted, Harry Potter. So noted."


	11. Chapter 11

**XI**

She wanted time to stand still.

Hermione Granger desperately didn't want the holiday to end. In fact, she would have done just about anything for them to remain in their holiday bubble for as long as possible. Things would be harder when they were back at school and, for the first time in her life, Hermione was _not_ looking forward to school.

She woke up on Saturday morning, feeling a mixture of feelings. Despite her nervous excitement for the day ahead, she couldn't help wondering about the next day; the day that they would get on the Hogwarts Express and head back to Hogwarts, where they would have to face _everyone_.

Hermione definitely wasn't looking forward to it, but she would definitely endure it all, because the boy was worth it.

Speaking of the sunshine kid... A quick knock at her door led to the body of Harry Potter suddenly on top her, barely giving her the time to register his presence. He peppered kisses across her face, making her giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Are you awake?" he asked, lifting himself up and hovering over her. "Because it's almost noon and your mum is going to be here soon, so you better be awake."

"I'm awake," she said, pushing on his chest so she could look at him properly. Then she froze. "What time did you say it was?"

He looked at her, a guilty expression taking over his face.

"Harry," she said calmly; "what time is it really?"

He pulled back so he could be up and out of the room before she lunged at him. "Umm, it's, well, why don't you check your watch? The one that was given to you by your truly handsome boyfriend, who you totally love."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just tell me what the time is," she said. "I promise I won't hurt you."

Harry swallowed nervously. He didn't trust her when her voice took on that calculated quality. "Well, you see, I woke up early, and then I got bored so I decided that I wanted to see you, and here I am."

Hermione glanced at her night table, where her watch was sitting. It took her a moment to spy the time, her eyes having to focus. Then she gasped. "Harry Potter! It's not even seven o'clock yet."

He looked away. "It's not like I _actually_ woke you up," he said. "Don't think I didn't notice that you were already awake."

"That is so not the point," she said, huffing. Then she bit her bottom lip. "You're just excited about today, aren't you?"

"And a little nervous," he admitted. "I want it to go well. I don't want you to be disappointed, Hermione."

"I'm sure I won't be, Harry," she said truthfully. "I'll be with you. It's all I've ever wanted. _You_ are honestly all that I've ever wanted."

"Besides about a million Outstandings, huh?"

Hermione kissed his cheek. "Now, get off me so I can get ready."

"You just want to brush your teeth so you can kiss me," he said with such a shit-eating grin that she desperately wanted to wipe off his face. She wasn't sure how to though, because he _was_ right. She _hated_ that he was so damn right.

"Okay, so get off," she said.

Harry pouted for a moment before he made a big show of rolling off of her and lying next to her on his side, his arm resting over her abdomen. They lay side by side for the longest time before Hermione eventually got up and headed into her bathroom.

Something about this day felt different. _He_ felt different.

Hermione took her time in the bathroom, knowing that he would still be where she left him. As the daughter of dentists, she had impeccable dental hygiene and that required _time_. She tried her best to deal with her hair but she eventually abandoned her attempts when she realised that Harry's fingers would soon be doing some damage.

When Hermione went back into her bedroom, Harry was asleep. As much as she wanted to wake him up, she didn't. He looked so peaceful and adorable and boy did she love him. Instead, she headed downstairs where she found her parents having breakfast at the kitchen table. She'd spent very little _alone_ time with them this holiday, mainly because of Harry, but also because her parents were workaholics.

It wasn't anything new. Hermione knew how hard and how much her parents worked. It was why she was as independent, self-sufficient and capable of occupying herself as she was. She'd had years of practice.

So it was kind of nice to sit with them while they ate breakfast. Even though they'd discussed the events of the day the previous night, Jane ran through it, just to make sure that everyone was up to speed.

"So I'll come home for lunch," Jane said to Hermione. "Of course, you two won't have to eat with me and then, on my way back to the practice; I'll drop you two off. You'll do whatever it is that teenagers do, and then the four of us will go to Rostov's for your last supper. Got it?"

Hermione just nodded. She really didn't need to be told twice. Or was this the third time?

Hermione saw her parents out, and then locked the front door. For a moment, she thought about the wards that had been placed on the house, and wondered if they extended all the way to the street. She made a mental note to read up on Warding when they got back to Hogwarts. It seemed like a useful skill to be able to identify wards. And possibly cast them. Her life, now that she was Harry Potter's girlfriend, had changed.

Eventually, Hermione went back upstairs to find Harry still asleep. She climbed in next to him, pulled out her journal and started to write. She managed to get quite a bit done before Harry started to stir, claiming her attention. It was an experience she wouldn't be able to describe just being able to watch him wake up. His eyes fluttered, his arms stretched and he made the cutest mewling sound.

Hermione couldn't stop herself from kissing him, even before he was fully awake.

They spent most of the morning in her bed, just talking and laughing and _being_ together. Their growling stomachs eventually sent them downstairs, and then they were both getting ready for when Jane came home. It wouldn't do for her to find them still in their pyjamas.

Hermione couldn't help thinking that this was what it would feel like to be living with Harry, and she definitely liked it.

Jane found the teenagers in the living room, fully engrossed in the movie that they were watching. It took her a moment to recognise it as _Police Academy 4_ , and the sound of her laughter drew their attention.

"Hi, Mum!" Hermione said, standing up and moving to hug her mother. "We made you lunch."

Jane blinked. "You did?"

"To go," Hermione added, and Jane burst out laughing.

"All right, all right," Jane said, kissing Hermione's forehead. "I can take a hint. Grab your coats - let's get going."

It took just under ten minutes for them to pile into the car and be on their way. Hermione was riding shotgun, but she kept stealing glances at Harry, giving away her obvious excitement. All he could really do was grin at her.

Jane pulled up to the side of a street, in front of a small cafe, and turned to look at them both. "Do you have enough money?" she asked.

Harry was the one who nodded.

"Now, be careful," she said seriously. "But do enjoy yourselves, and we'll see you at Rostov's at seven o'clock, okay? Don't be late!"

Harry and Hermione nodded, before Harry quickly got out, and ran around the car to the passenger's side, so he could open Hermione's door for her. The witch was blushing madly when she stepped out of the car. They said a quick goodbye to Jane, and then they were alone. They'd been alone just that morning, but this felt like a _different_ alone.

"What do you want to do first?" Hermione asked, taking hold of both of his hands and smiling up at him.

Harry squeezed her hands. "Why don't we walk around for a bit, and then decide?"

Hermione couldn't resist kissing him first. It was a quick one, and then she released his one hand, and they started on their walk down the busy street. They passed by cafes, book shops, a movie theatre - which Harry showed keen interest in - various restaurants, and several little supermarkets.

Hermione liked this part of town. It was nice and new, and there was a nice mixture of people, old and young, and ranging in ethnicity.

They eventually decided on some lunch in a little Greek restaurant. They were given no cutlery, which was deathly amusing. The food was juicy and messy, and oh so divine. They almost didn't remember to swap dishes, and that would be a travesty.

For dessert, they had baclava, which was a little strange at first, but it quickly grew on them. They were talking and laughing so much that, during a particularly hard laugh, Harry actually _inhaled_ a small piece of baclava, and it ended up coming out of his nose.

Hermione even snorted; she found it so funny.

Harry had to drink some water and blow his nose to clear both his airways. "By Merlin, that burned," he said, shaking his head. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"

She giggled. "Oh. Never ever. I'm literally going to tell everyone we know so we can all share a laugh at your expense."

"You are so kind."

She reached for one of his hands on the table. "I'm _so_ kind, that I'm even going to agree to watch the movie you so badly want to watch."

He raised an eyebrow. "You noticed, huh?"

"When was the last time you went to a cinema?"

He had to think about it. "Umm, it was probably Dudley's twelfth birthday. They'd contemplated leaving me behind for ages, but decided that people would ask too many questions, given that I'd barely been seen all summer."

Hermione decided to file away her feelings about that for the time being. She already had plans for the Dursleys anyway. "What movie did you watch?"

"I'm not exactly sure," he said truthfully. "I was sent into a different theatre to the others, and told to sit in the back. I know it had zombies in it. My guess is that my uncle tried to _scare_ the magic out of me or some nonsense like that."

"It didn't work."

Harry shrugged. "Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you weren't a witch, Hermione?"

"Sometimes," she confessed. "I mean, I already had plans for my life before my Hogwarts letter arrived... They all went to hell when I learned about magic though. It was never going to be something I would say no to. How could I? I never could have lived with the regret."

"You would have been _Obliviated_."

She blinked. "I would never have met you."

Harry's eyes widened. He didn't even want to begin to imagine a life without Hermione Granger. His pretty girl. _That_ was a life that he didn't want to live.

She squeezed his hand, bringing him back to her. "Come on, let's go and watch that movie of yours before I completely change my mind."

* * *

He was completely fascinated by her.

Harry Potter watched her face as she studied the movie posters. She looked so thoughtful as she concentrated, and Harry couldn't look away even if he tried. Suddenly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the ticket line.

"To be completely honest," she said, glancing at him. "I'm not entirely keen on any of the movies playing."

"Then we should do something else," he offered lightly.

"But you said you wanted to watch a movie," she pointed out, though he never actually _voiced_ such a thing.

"Not if you don't want to, Hermione," he said seriously. Then he smiled, an idea coming to him. "I know what we can do," he said quickly, dragging her out of the line and starting down the street. He was just happy that Hermione wasn't asking him any questions as he led the way to the ice-skating rink he'd spotted earlier from the car.

Hermione's face lit up when she realised where they were going. She squeezed his hand tightly, forcing him to look at her. "Mr Potter, you do remember that I'm not a fan of the cold, or the wet, right?"

"And yet you're still excited," he said, grinning at her.

"I must love you or something," she murmured, reaching up to kiss his cheek as they walked. "And, I mean, do you even know how to skate?"

"Do you?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "I learned a few years ago, but I haven't skated in quite some time."

"So this'll be fun for both of us then, won't it?"

It turned out to be the understatement of the century.

Once they bought their tickets and hired their skates; Hermione took to the ice first and then put out her hand for him. Harry lasted only four seconds before he hit the ice, landing quite hard on his bottom and making her laugh out loud.

Harry merely glared at her as he managed to get up using the side of the ice rink. Without saying a word to her, Harry started to move, slowly and unsteadily, while still holding onto the sides in a death grip with his right hand.

Hermione sidled up to him but she didn't try to touch him. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to control her giggles. "But even you have to admit that it was a little funny."

Harry made a show of ignoring her as he shuffled along behind a group of little girls in bright pink coats.

"Oh, come on, Harry," Hermione said, reaching for his left hand. "Come with me. I won't laugh if you fall again."

He looked at her. "Promise?"

"I promise," she said seriously. "Now, give me your other hand."

Harry did as instructed, and she slowly moved them away from the side walls. She was skating backwards - goodness knows how she remembered how to do that - and she was pulling Harry along. They were going slowly, and Harry couldn't bring himself to look up from his own skates. Why oh why had he suggested this?

"You don't look like you're out of practice," he murmured, risking a look at her face.

She was smiling happily at him. "I guess it's kind of like riding a bike," she said.

"I wouldn't know," he said simply. "I never learned."

Hermione made no comment. She rather added it to a list of things that she would endeavour to teach him, or just do _with_ him. There was this ice-skating, riding a bicycle, driving a car and so many more things. Honestly, even thinking about everything he'd missed out on made her heart hurt. She would have to talk to Sirius soon. Speaking of...

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to tell Sirius about us?" she asked.

Harry almost fell again, but her hold on him kept him steady. "I already did," he said seriously. "Hedwig was complaining about having nothing to do, so I sent her off, letting him know that he could stop with all his teasing now."

"And what did he say?" she asked curiously.

Harry couldn't help his blush. "Well, you know, he may or may not have asked when the wedding was."

Hermione laughed, her head tilting back, which only made Harry lose his balance, and he ended up on his knees. It made the witch laugh a little harder - that promise was broken rather quickly - but she eventually helped him up. "It appears to me that we'll never win when it comes to Sirius," she said, releasing his hands so he could wipe off some of the ice he picked up.

"I told him to save the date for some time in two thousand and two," he said, his intention to shock her.

It worked like a peach, because she seemed to choke on her own breath, and _she_ was the one to almost fall. "Harry," she squeaked, clearly surprised. "Did you really tell him that?"

He winked at her. "What if I did?"

Hermione froze. "Do you really think that we'll still be together six years from now?"

"Do you really think we won't?"

Hermione took hold of his hands again and tugged him towards her, so she could hug him. "To be completely honest, Harry, I keep thinking that you're going to come to your senses and decide that it's not me you want," she whispered into his neck.

He hugged her tighter. "You're my favourite person in the world, Hermione," he said, his breath tickling her ear. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

Hermione just relaxed into his embrace.

Harry merely continued to hold her, and then he started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked, pulling away so she could look at his face. "Why on earth are you laughing?"

He spoke through his laughter, his breath catching. "It's just, well, I was thinking that you really are your mother's daughter, aren't you?"

She frowned in confusion.

"Like Dr Jane Granger, you don't really get on with other women all that well, do you?"

She laughed out loud, filling his chest with supreme warmth. "I don't know what it is."

"I do."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's jealousy, Hermione," he said simply, holding onto her quite tightly. "I mean, you're this perfect girl who does all her homework, never talks back to teachers; you say 'please' and 'thank you,' and you say 'sorry' way too much... and yet, you're still a total badass! Even _I'm_ jealous of you." He gently kissed the tip of her nose.

"As you should be," she said, tilting her head to the side. "I _did_ slap Malfoy."

"See! Total badass!"

She shook her head. "I don't condone physical violence, Mr Potter."

"But if you did... Malfoy would be the first exception, wouldn't he?"

"Please can we stop talking about Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes. "I just ate."

Harry couldn't resist kissing her, right there, in the middle of the ice-skating rink. "I love you," he whispered against her lips.

 _Warmth_. Her entire body filled with supreme, unbridled warmth. "I love you too."

He offered her the most perfect smile. "Now, teach me how to do this thing that I so stupidly suggested before I end up on my bottom again," he said, sounding amused.

* * *

She didn't want the holiday to come to an end.

Hermione Granger had half a mind to engineer some way to freeze time. Given her exploits in magic so far; she was sure she could manage it if she really put her mind to it. Though, she didn't think that she knew nearly enough to pull it off yet. Her Ancient Runes would definitely need some work.

Once Hermione was dressed for the day, she went downstairs for the last breakfast before their return to Hogwarts. It was a full breakfast, prepared by both Harry and Jane. The two of them decided to go all out and it was something to behold. Even Hogwarts would be proud of this spread. Ron would probably salivate just at the smell coming from the kitchen.

"Are you all packed and ready to go?" Jane asked as they settled in to eat. "I won't be sending you anything that you happen to forget."

"Yes, Mum," Hermione said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I'll double-check both our rooms before we leave." She glanced at Harry and smiled mischievously, which just confused him, though he didn't tell her so.

Harry only figured out what she was trying to tell him when she cornered him in his room and kissed him senseless. There were hands in hair and fingers sneaking up tops as they made use of the last time they would be alone for goodness knew how long.

Harry was the one to pull away first, the need to breathe becoming increasingly vital. He just smiled at her, enjoying the way that she held onto him a little too much. _And_ the way she was looking at him. Truly, he would never tire of it.

"If we don't leave in the next ten minutes, we're going to be late!" Jane yelled from downstairs, forcing Hermione to release her hold on Harry. The thing was that she didn't know when next they would be able to do _this_ ; to just _be_.

Harry wanted to say something reassuring, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. The last thing he wanted to do was make empty promises. They weren't even a month into their relationship, and he already felt a sense of doom setting in. What came next wasn't going to be easy.

"You go on down," Harry said. "I'll bring the trunks."

"I'm highly capable," she countered.

"And I don't doubt that for a second, pretty girl," he said, grinning cheekily; "just let me be chivalrous, will you?"

Hermione quickly kissed his cheek, grabbed Hedwig's cage off the desk, and then headed out of the room, bouncing as she walked. He watched her go for a moment, before he too headed downstairs, trudging their trunks along.

"Oh, Harry," Michael said when he spotted him. "Why didn't you give a shout to let me know you needed some help?"

Harry let out a long breath, before he grinned and said: "Michael, I need some help."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I'm definitely going to miss you, Mr Potter."

Harry froze.

"It was nice having a little extra testosterone in the house, that's for sure," he continued, not noticing Harry's disposition. "I'll send letters about how Arsenal's doing, if you'd like," he offered, smiling at the younger man. "Or were you just faking interest?"

Harry managed to recover enough to respond. "I'm definitely interested," he said, sounding rather breathless. Michael said he would miss him. Harry could literally count on his hands the number of people who would truly miss him, and he just knew that Michael was now one of them.

Between the two of them, they managed to get both trunks and Hedwig's cage into the car, before Michael was bellowing for Jane and Hermione that it was time to go. It took a further few minutes for Jane to emerge, and then Hermione a few minutes more. She looked flushed, like she was embarrassed by something.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked in a whisper, once they were safely tucked into their shared backseat and were out on the road towards King's Cross Station.

Hermione could barely look at him. "I'll tell you later," she whispered back, and that was that.

Jane made sure to tell the teenagers that she expected many letters. They also discussed possible trips they could go on when the summer rolled around, because it was cheaper to book their tickets early. Harry couldn't even explain what he was feeling when Jane willingly included Harry in the discussion.

Finding parking was a mission and a half, as usual, but they arrived on the platform earlier than many of the other students. The farewell was quick, all four of them sharing hugs goodbye. Jane actually held onto Harry for quite some time, forcing Michael to get her to let go of him.

As Jane released him, she whispered something in his ear. "Saffron."

Harry looked up at her quizzically, clearly confused. Then it clicked. _Saffron_. The secret ingredient in her custard pies. Harry grinned at her, quickly hugging her once more, and then the teenagers were walking away.

Once on the train, Harry and Hermione located a compartment near the back, so that the rest of them would fill up well before students came across the pair. Unless said student was actually _looking_ for the new couple.

"So what had you all flushed?" he asked, as he lifted both their trunks onto the rack above their heads.

Hermione huffed. "It was horrid, Harry," she said, sounding incredulous. "My mum insisted on clarifying a few things for me," she said, cringing. "About... boys... and girls."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh Merlin."

"Exactly!"

Despite how horrified he was, Harry couldn't help laughing. "Does your mum know just how naughty those hands of yours are?"

She glared at him. "If you know what's good for you, Potter; she'll _never_ find out."

Harry held his hands up in innocence.

She shook her head once, and then stood up and climbed onto the seat to fetch something from her trunk.

"Is that...?" he asked, pointing at what she'd just retrieved as he sat down closest to the window.

She nodded. "Ancient Runes," she said happily. "I'll need to keep myself occupied, so I don't do something crazy and give us up because of my apparently straying hands."

He winked at her. "Even you have to admit that they really do have a tendency to misbehave, don't they?"

"You know, sometimes I wonder how you put up with me," she said, grinning at him. "Then I remember that, oh, I put up with you. So we're even."

Harry put out his hand for her to take, and she took it without hesitation. He pulled gently, and she sat down right beside him, close enough for the two of them, but far enough for passers-by and those nosy students who insisted on looking into their compartment. He did his best to ignore them, and Hermione made sure to keep their clasped hands hidden from view.

Hermione settled in for the act they were about to put on, but his intense gaze on her made it a little difficult to concentrate. Also, his thumb was absently rubbing the back of her hand and it was terribly distracting.

"Stop looking at me like that," she whispered, forcing herself not to roll her eyes.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like _that_?"

He grinned at her. "Like you're my everything?"

Hermione didn't think she would ever get used to hearing Harry Potter say cute things like that. Her blush hit her in full force, and her eyes locked on his.

"I don't know how else to look at you," he said softly, stealing her breath.

Hermione launched herself at him, her arms closing around him as she proceeded to kiss him thoroughly. It wasn't a particularly long kiss, but it was enough to leave him looking particularly dazed. She even giggled at his expression as she wiped his mouth with her thumb. "That might be the last kiss you get for a while," she said, shifting away from him.

It wouldn't do for them to sit too close to each other. But then they always sat close to each other, even as best friends. Would sitting too far away from each other raise suspicions? What if -

"Hey," Harry said, getting her attention. "I can literally hear you thinking."

She blushed, feeling a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm a little nervous, and I'd really like to just get it out to Ron nice and early, but knowing the Weasley clan, they'll be the last ones on board."

Harry gently pat her knee. "Be sneaky, Hermione," he said, winking at her. "I know you've got it in you."

"Oh, so now we're embracing our Slytherin sides?"

He nodded. "We just have to get through this train ride, and probably dinner as well, and then we can talk to him. As long as he knows first, everybody else can know afterwards."

She also nodded. He was just repeating what they'd already discussed and decided. Maybe he realised that she needed to hear it said out loud again. They had a plan, and it was reassuring for her.

"It's going to be fine," he said soothingly. "I mean, it might not be in the beginning, but we don't owe anybody anything, all right? It's you and me, and if we make sure to stick together through everything that's sure to come our way; everything will be fine."

Hermione put her hand over his where it remained resting on her knee. "Since when did you become the voice of reason?"

He laughed lightly. "In the end, we all have to play the part, don't we?"

She locked her eyes on his and opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of the compartment door opening stopped her. She didn't exactly snatch her hand away from Harry's but they did mutually end the contact as soon as Luna stepped through the door and smiled at them.

Hermione thought it looked like a _knowing_ smile.

They shared greetings and warm hugs, before Harry got Luna talking about her holiday expedition with her father. It was a truly fantastical tale, and Hermione tried to pay close attention, but it became increasingly difficult the longer it went on.

Next to arrive was Neville, who was quick to ask after Harry and Hermione's holiday. They divulged details of their visit to the children's home and Hermione's mother's win in the Christmas Market's pie competition.

Hermione was telling them all about the Wizarding _Monopoly_ that she and Harry had planned when the Weasley clan arrived on the platform. The four of them in the compartment watched through the window as Molly Weasley tried and failed to keep track of her brood. By the time Ron and Ginny finally found them, they were both flushed.

"You'd think that she's never seen us off before," Ron muttered, before he greeted them all. "Hugged the life out of me, that woman."

Hermione glanced at Harry, and they shared an amused look.

"She's just going to miss you, Ron," Hermione said, smiling warmly at him.

Ron flopped down beside Hermione. "Do we have a Prefects' meeting?" he asked distractedly. "You reckon I can skip it?"

Hermione let out a long breath before she stood up. "We should just go and see what's expected of us," she said simply. "Maybe we won't need to patrol."

Ron begrudgingly stood up and stretched.

Hermione gently nudged him forward, and proceeded to follow him out of the compartment. Before she disappeared completely, she looked at Harry, who was absently fingering through her discarded book on Ancient Ruins. Trust him to turn completely awkward.

Hermione just hoped that he didn't end up giving them up while she was away. Though, between the two of them, she definitely trusted him more than she did herself, seeing as she would be alone with Ron for a substantial amount of time. Her mind kept running through all the things she was or was not doing that was deemed normal or not normal for her and Harry.

It was too much.

Harry watched them go until they disappeared. He was feeling rather nervous, given what was surely to come, and it only amplified when he was no longer in Hermione's presence. She managed to keep him calm, and he reasoned that he probably did the same for her. Conversation dulled slightly, and Luna did have a knack for turning awkward silences into _more._

But then, mercifully, Ron and Hermione were back. Harry immediately relaxed at the sight of Hermione, but he managed to keep the relief off his face. He had a sneaking suspicion that Luna just _knew_ something, and was merely biding her time and enjoying whatever it was that she thought she knew.

Hermione, of course, was saying something as the two Gryffindor Prefects reentered the compartment. She looked rather irritated about something, and her next words gave away the truth of that. "You'd struggle to pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel," she said over her shoulder, and all but Ron laughed, though it was a struggle for the redhead.

"Hermione," Ron said, looking slightly amused. "Bloody hell, you really do have an anger problem, d'you know that?"

The witch turned her glare on the redhead, almost daring him to say something more. Eventually, she huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't have an anger problem," she said sternly; "I just have a problem with idiots."

Harry let out a small laugh, earning himself a glare. "Then we're all idiots, aren't we?" he teased, winking at her.

She blushed furiously, but resumed her seat beside Harry and made a point of not looking at him.

It was Ginny who got them talking again, lifting the mood as the Express trudged on towards Hogwarts. Every time Hermione was asked a direct question about how she and Harry spent the holiday, she forced herself to stop and think about her response before opening her mouth. She had to keep a check on what she said and did, and it was raising her anxiety levels.

Despite his emotional range of a teaspoon, it was Ron who noticed that there was something up with his two best friends. He watched them carefully for a while, but he couldn't quite place what was so _off_ about them.

Until he just did.

"Why aren't you two touching?" he blurted out, causing all those in the compartment to stare at him.

It was Luna who braved asking him to clarify, especially when he couldn't stop looking between Harry and Hermione, who were both starting to blush under his obvious scrutiny.

Ron addressed his two friends. "This whole time; you haven't touched. Not once. Did something happen? Are you fighting?"

Again, it was Luna who spoke. "They're not fighting, Ronald."

Ron looked confused. "Then why..." he trailed off when he noticed the somewhat guilty looks on his friends' faces. He immediately shook his head. "No, no, no, no," he rushed, blinking furiously. "You're not - no ways."

"Ron," Hermione said carefully, clearly; "do you think that Harry and I could talk to you outside?"

Ron looked like he wanted to refuse at first, but a significant look from Hermione had him standing up and rushing out of the room. Harry followed immediately, but it was Hermione who lingered behind, her heart suddenly torn.

Hermione looked at Ginny, who appeared a mixture of confused and disbelieving. "Later, we'll talk?" she asked quietly.

Ginny blinked once before she managed a nod, and then Hermione was gone, leaving the non-Golden Trio to their own devices for a substantial amount of time. Luna tried to fill the silence with more stories of her adventures but there was no getting around the incessant feeling that things _had_ changed.

Ron returned first, looking red in the face and muttering to himself under his breath.

Harry arrived a few minutes later. He shot a heated, disappointed glare at Ron before he moved to kneel in front of Ginny. He looked slightly distracted, like he wished that he were doing something else with _someone_ else. "She asked me to come and get you," he said softly. "Will you come?"

Ginny glanced around the compartment, taking in Neville's curious eyes, Luna's dreamy expression and Ron's misplaced anger, before finally settling down on Harry's pleading eyes. There was a deep concern in them, and he looked troubled. Harry _needed_ her to go.

So she stood up, and allowed him to lead the way to Hermione, wherever she was in the train.

Once they were gone, Luna turned her own glare on Ron. She stared at him for a long while, trying to ascertain whether or not she was feeling merciful. "That wasn't very nice, Ronald," she finally said, her tone pointed and deeply haunting.

The moment Ron started to respond, he rather snapped his mouth shut, and then slumped down further into the seat, looking utterly defeated. Even though he knew that the Ravenclaw witch had no idea what he could have possibly said in his obvious rage at the news his two friends decided to bestow on him - he couldn't even recall most of it himself - Luna definitely had an idea. It hadn't been the first time that his mouth had run off without his logic.

 _And_ he'd made Hermione cry.

Somehow, Ron knew that Harry wouldn't forgive him for that. It was different to what happened after the Yule Ball. Then, in some way, Harry had remained aligned with Ron, but now he vehemently _was not_.

"It really wasn't, was it?" Ron asked quietly, his face revealing his sudden misery. He quickly stood up, intent on going to find his friends, but Neville's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Leave them for now," Neville said knowingly.

Ron snapped his arm away from Neville, ready to rip into him about getting involved in things that didn't concern him, when the compartment door opened again, revealing an extremely ragged looking Harry Potter.

Once again, the raven-haired wizard glared at Ron, before he resumed his seat and stared out the window.

Ron, wisely, didn't say a word as he too resumed his seat.

The four of them sat in silence for the longest time before Luna decided to break it. Her attention was on Harry, when she spoke. "Cho didn't take it well?" she asked.

Harry's eyes snapped towards her. "How did you - " he started, but then stopped suddenly. This _was_ Luna. "She did, actually," he found himself saying. "She found me with Ginny and Hermione, and, well, I explained to her just what had happened, and she just accepted it."

Luna frowned. "She did?"

"Hermione was always a topic of contention for the two of us," he explained quietly. "So, I suppose she wasn't particularly surprised, and things had cooled off between us anyway. We were never actually got _together_."

"Because you love Hermione?"

Harry's eyes widened, and Ron made a strangled sound at the sound of that. Harry shot the redhead another heated look and, when he spoke; his gaze didn't drift away from him. "Actually, yes, Luna," he said clearly. "I do love Hermione." He finally looked at Luna again. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Luna smiled at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said simply; "which is a sentence that people generally say to me; oddly enough."

Harry and Neville exchanged an amused look. "Oh, Luna, please never ever change," Harry said, smiling his first genuine smile since he'd first left the compartment with Hermione.

She looked curiously at him. "Change what?"

Neville just laughed lightly, but it was abruptly cut off when Ginny stormed into the compartment and - somewhat viciously - dragged her brother out of the compartment. For a moment, even Harry felt sorry for him, but then Hermione appeared in the doorway, and all other thoughts disappeared from his mind as he stood up.

"I'm fine," she said strongly, as she walked into the compartment, and straight into Harry's waiting arms. They hugged for a moment, before they both sat down, much closer than earlier. "It turns out that I'm not the only one who was angered by Ron's reaction," she said casually. "Though I'm a little embarrassed about my tears."

Harry placed a comforting hand on her thigh. _He_ knew a little something about angry tears.

Too much, actually.

Ginny and Ron didn't return until much later, and Ginny forced Ron to offer a mumbled apology, that neither Harry nor Hermione accepted verbally. It wasn't lost on anyone that this new relationship was going to take some getting used to. Even the two teenagers involved were still adjusting.

Really, Harry couldn't wait until they could all just get out of this compartment and off of this train. Thankfully, his prayers were answered within the hour, and the Hogwarts Express was coming to a stop in Hogsmeade.

As one, all but Harry and Hermione stood up to disembark.

"You guys go on," Harry said, still refusing to look at Ron. "We'll catch up."

Ron grumbled something, and Ginny just kicked him in the shin, which would have been amusing on any other day. But not today. Harry couldn't quite get over the hate - no, it was something more like jealousy - he'd seen in Ron's eyes. But what was more confusing was that it didn't seem like Ron was jealous of _him_ ; he was rather jealous of Hermione. Which was just... Harry didn't understand it.

Was it that he didn't want Hermione to be closer to Harry than he was? Did Ron think that, now that he and Hermione were together; Harry wouldn't need him anymore? That Hermione would just automatically trump all other existing friendships?

Well, in truth, she already _did_ , but Ron was Harry's best friend. Didn't he realise that that _meant something_?

"Ron'll come around," Hermione said after they'd been sitting for a while. "And so will Cho."

Harry actually shuddered. "She was a little too smug about her 'I knew it' though," he said, cringing slightly. "But we haven't done anything wrong, and I won't have us let their reactions dictate our relationship, all right?"

Hermione glanced at his determined expression, before she leaned into him, soaking up his warmth. "All right."

They descended into silence once more, as they listened to the residual sounds of a quickly-emptying Hogwarts Express. There was a lot going through their minds, but neither of them could mistake the relief that they both felt. It was out there. They wouldn't have to hide it anymore. Which they'd done a bang-up job of doing anyway.

Slowly, Harry started to laugh. "Who knew that _not_ touching could be so suspicious?" he asked, sucking in a breath.

Hermione couldn't help her own giggle. "Our plan of attack was an epic, truly epic fail."

"You'd think that, by now, we'd know better. All these years of failed plans..."

Hermione shrugged. "The only thing we can do is learn from this, Potter."

Harry nodded absently, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head and sighing. The revelation about their relationship might not have gone to plan, but everything else was. He was here with Hermione Granger, and he couldn't have asked for anything better. This was his life and, as cruel as it sometimes was; she made everything okay. She always did.

Harry gently nudged her, getting her attention. "Are you ready to go?" he asked softly. "Before, you know, we end up back at King's Cross?"

Hermione just about managed a smile, before she stood up. She reached for her beanie, scarf and gloves that were on the seat and proceeded to prepare herself for the cold that they were about to face.

Beside her, Harry did the same, and then he was leading them out of the compartment, their gloved fingers linked. The silence of the train was eerie so Harry started to hum a tone he didn't even immediately recognise.

"Is that _Back to the Future_?" Hermione suddenly asked.

"Hmm?"

Hermione let out a light, appreciative laugh, but decided not to respond.

Harry stepped off the train first and looked around, making sure that there really weren't any other students around. He wanted more of a moment alone with his girlfriend, and he couldn't be sure when next he would get the opportunity. Given Ron's reaction - and, he supposed, Cho's as well - he and Hermione were undoubtedly in for a rough start to the term.

Harry turned towards Hermione when she appeared in the doorway. "Is the coast clear?" she asked, smiling her first genuine smile at him.

"Oh yeah," he said; "we're definitely the last two left. Why? Thinking of doing something naughty?"

"You wish."

Harry put his hand out for her, which she automatically took, and he helped her get down from the train. As soon as she was safely on the ground, she tightened her coat around her and huffed.

"Is it too late to go back to Oxfordshire?" she asked, already grumbling about how cold Scotland was.

Harry absently kissed her temple, drawing her in close when he felt her shiver. From the cold, he wasn't sure, but it still made him smile. "Didn't anyone tell you that it's cold outside?"

Hermione looked at him through her lashes. "My boyfriend is slacking, isn't he?"

"It would seem so," he answered, shaking his head. "Would you like me to have a talk with him?"

"I'm not sure how well he'd respond to it; he's awfully stubborn, but you're welcome to try."

Harry laughed lightly. "Come on," he said, stepping away from her. "The carriages are waiting." He started to walk away from her, but her gloved hand on his arm stopped him and he turned to look at her. "Pretty girl?"

"Can we just wait a moment?" she asked quietly. "I'm just, well - I - " she stopped and let out a breath. "I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by everything."

Harry stepped back towards her. "Okay," he said gently, refraining from touching her. "We'll wait a while."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he assured her. "I mean, I wouldn't really know, but it definitely can't be easy being Harry Potter's girlfriend? I heard that he's quite the git."

Hermione giggled, allowing his attempt to distract her to work. "Don't believe everything you hear," she said; "he's not as bad as you think."

"I still think he's a prick."

"Hey," she reprimanded gently. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

Harry smiled innocently.

"And I love him."

At the sound of that, Harry's chest filled with warmth. That was all that would ever matter. The rest of the world could think whatever they wanted but, as long as they both knew where the other stood; they would be okay. Because that's what the other did: they made everything okay.

They always did.

"He's a lucky guy," Harry whispered.

"I've been trying to tell him."

Harry shifted her beanie lovingly. "He knows, Hermione," he said seriously, before he leaned in to kiss her. "Trust me, he _knows_."


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

She was trying too hard.

Hermione Granger knew the truth of it, but she couldn't help it. She just couldn't bring herself to accept that there was a spell that she couldn't do, but her lack of performance with the Patronus Charm was really starting to get her down. Not as much as the aftermath of the revelation of her relationship with Harry did, but it was still up there.

Of course, Harry noticed.

When wouldn't he?

He was so clued into her that they were usually able to answer for each other even in normal conversation. So, even as he moved around the room helping several of the other DA members with the same spell, he kept one eye on her. She was working closely with Ginny and Luna, who were also struggling, though Luna was almost there.

When Harry had spoken to Luna a few lessons back, she'd confessed to using a memory of her mother to fuel her Patronus, which had made him feel comfortable enough to tell her that he'd started that way as well. It was his blush afterwards that told her all she needed to know: his memory had changed, to include a certain brown-haired witch.

Harry did the rounds another two times - spending as little time with Cho as possible - before he moved to join his three favourite girls. They all offered him smiles, though Hermione's was considerably more enthusiastic than both Luna and Ginny's combined.

It always filled him with warmth whenever she showed him that she was happy to see him; to be near him; just to spend time with him. The start of their school term had been stressful, to say the least, but things eventually settled down when people realised that their relationship was made of strong stuff.

The _strongest_.

Goodness knew that they'd been tested, but the Wizarding World now knew the truth of it and couldn't question it. The fact that they asked so much of fifteen and sixteen-year-olds should have raised eyebrows, but Wizarding Britain had a field day with the _liar_ and his Muggleborn girlfriend.

It merely solidified Harry's opinion that the world truly was cruel.

But then he had Hermione; and the great big world ceased to bother him anymore.

"Professor Potter," Ginny said teasingly, getting Harry's attention. "Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to - "

"Oh, shut it, Gin," Harry cut her off, laughing. "Do you want my help or not?"

Ginny huffed. "By all means, show us the magic."

Harry rolled his eyes, and Hermione let out a small giggle. He'd only started to do the eye-roll quite recently and Hermione hadn't waited a single day to write home to her parents and tell them all about it. Her father really got a kick out of that piece of news.

Harry spent the next ten minutes working with both Luna and Ginny, while Hermione drifted a little away to work on her own. They were both truly attentive, diligent students and, if what he taught them was able to protect them in the future; he didn't regret the DA one bit.

Once Harry set them to work on their own again, he drifted away as well, only one destination in mind.

Harry moved to stand behind Hermione, much closer than he usually did when they were in public - even though they considered the DA a safe space. He slowly slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her close to him, making the great big world immediately fell away. The same way that one touch from her could rid his body of anger; a touch from him lowered her anxiety.

Nobody seemed to notice them and, if they did, Harry and Hermione didn't seem to care.

Hermione sighed when his chin moved to rest on her left shoulder.

"You're too tense," he said quietly, his breath tickling the skin of her neck. "It definitely won't happen if you keep trying to force it."

Hermione knew it all already. It was part of the problem, wasn't it? She was so frustrated because she _knew_ , and yet she still didn't know how to fix it. She absolutely hated not knowing things, and _this_ especially was grating on her nerves.

"Tell me what you're thinking about right now," Harry said gently, his hold on her tightening slightly.

"The memory I'm using?"

"No, just what you're thinking about," he clarified.

She sighed, dropping her wand arm and relaxing into him. "I'm thinking that I want to call it a day," she said tiredly; "but then I'll just feel guilty about it."

Harry nuzzled her neck with his nose, before he unashamedly breathed her in. "How can I help?"

"You're doing it."

"I could be doing a few _other_ things," he whispered, making her shiver. "You know how much I _love_ helping."

She huffed. "You're too distracting for your own good."

"Hey, I want you to nail this Charm almost as much as you do," he said seriously. "My watch is looking a little bare."

At the sound of that, Hermione pocketed her wand and took hold of his left hand so that they could both study his watch. "I don't know why you don't just switch it to display your own Patronus," she said, touching on a topic they'd discussed many times before.

"I'm waiting for yours," he said easily, as if it was the simplest reason there could possibly be. "So it shall remain blank until we learn your form."

She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed its back. "I think I'm going to go back to Gryffindor Tower," she said. "Will you be all right seeing out the rest of the lesson?"

"I think Ron and I can handle it," he said. "Though, I'll probably have to keep an eye on him; he's been telling people all sorts of things about his supposed memory."

"Quidditch Captaincy and possible Head Boy?"

Harry let out an amused breath that tickled her neck. "He's awfully excitable sometimes."

"Ginny's started referring to him as our special child," she said, laughing lightly.

"Oh no, our kids would definitely be better behaved, he said easily, making her flush instantly. "And _Spencer_ , our oldest, will probably - "

Hermione's sudden pinch to his hand stopped him from getting any further.

"Ouch! Hermione!" he hissed in pain. "What was that for?"

"We are _not_ naming our kid Spencer," she said seriously, even though they both knew that he was joking.

"And why not?" he asked, rubbing the back of his hand to exaggerate his _injury_.

"He'd get way too much satisfaction out of it," she said, fighting a giggle. "And we definitely can't have that."

Harry squeezed her once before he resettled against her, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder once more. He needed her to relax, but even he knew that there was no way of that happening in this room. Not with everyone around them, and definitely not when she was placing this misplaced burden on herself, as if the world was going to end if she didn't master this spell _right now_.

Harry wondered what was really bothering her, because he was sure it didn't have much to do with their watches. It was something else; something she wasn't telling him.

Hermione eventually sighed, all amusement leaving her. "I think I'm going to head back to the Tower," she told him. "I've got some work to finish up, and I'm not really feeling very, well, inspired."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to her, so he just kissed her cheek before releasing her.

Hermione turned around so she could see his face. "Are you _sure_ you're going to be all right?"

Harry glanced Ron's way, to spy the redhead surrounded by several other DA members. Harry just knew that, even in that moment, Ron was sprouting tales about his own memory that he used for his Patronus. As yet, majority of the students were casting incorporeal shield Patronuses, which didn't yet have forms. There was the odd one or two of them who were able to cast corporeal ones.

Harry remained the only student with the ability to cast a fully intangible Patronus, which was powerful magic of the truly advanced kind.

"I'm sure we'll manage," Harry eventually said, giving her the out that she needed while still reassuring her. "I mean, how much damage could little old me and Ron possibly do?"

"I think the Whomping Willow would have a few things to say," she said, smiling at him.

"That thing almost killed _us_!" he exclaimed. "Stupid, bloody tree."

Hermione lifted her right hand to touch his cheek. "I'll see you later, okay?"

He placed a hand over hers and leaned into her touch. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

She nodded, and then she was walking away.

Harry watched her go until she was out of the room, his own anxiety already kicking in. It was a problem, he knew, but he couldn't help it. They'd reasoned that it would be too dangerous for Hermione to go anywhere by herself while the school got used to the idea of them, and now, months later, he still couldn't get rid of the panic he felt whenever he knew she was alone.

The sound of a commotion drew his attention to his right where Angelina Johnson had successfully produced her first corporeal Patronus. The teacher in Harry was extremely proud - and was able to show it - but the boyfriend felt a little slighted. Hermione was already struggling with her own supposed incompetency, and this definitely wasn't going to help.

Harry dismissed the group several minutes later, and he didn't stick around as the students lingered, chatting about their successes and failures with the DA's newest Charm. It would be the last Spell he would teach, they'd decided, what with their exams coming up, as well as an increasingly pompous Inquisitorial Squad, spearheaded by the pink toad.

Harry found Hermione in the Common Room, poring over one of her Ancient Runes books. He'd noticed that she was spending a lot of time on that particular subject lately, but he was too afraid to ask. His girlfriend's brain was a little terrifying.

Like earlier, he moved to stand behind where she was sitting at the Trio's table, placed his hands on her shoulders and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head.

Hermione made a sound of content and leaned back into him. "Were there any accidents?" she asked quietly.

"If you count Ron almost peeing himself after Ginny sent a Bat Bogey Hex at his feet, then yes," he said, laughing lightly.

She absently touched his left hand on her shoulder. "Have you finished your Charms essay?"

"I have, actually," he informed her rather proudly. "I just have to do a read through and then I was going to ask you to take a look at it."

"Hand it over then."

Harry dropped another quick kiss onto her head, and then he was rushing up to his dormitory to fetch his books. The room was still empty, mainly because Ron and the rest of the boys stayed behind in the Room of Requirement to, essentially, muck about. He decided that he definitely wouldn't tell Hermione _that_. She was on a bit of a rampage when it came to their study schedules with their exams quickly approaching.

Hermione barely raised her eyebrows when Harry returned and sat down on her left side. He made quick work of getting out his books, parchment, quill and ink. As soon as he pressed his quill down to make his first edit to his own essay, Hermione took his quill from him and replaced it with one of her own.

Harry heaved a sigh good-naturedly. "You have to stop doing that."

She smiled innocently. "I like yours better."

"Then you should just keep it."

"But then it would be _mine_ , and it's just not the same," she explained, as if it were just supposed to make sense to him.

Harry just shook his head. _This_ was just something that he wouldn't ever understand about his girlfriend and that was okay with him. It just meant that there would always be new things for him to learn about her.

He nudged her slightly to make sure she was looking at him. "I didn't ask about Ben's letter earlier," he said, referring to the mail she'd received that very morning. "How is he doing?"

"Oh," she sounded, allowing the momentary distraction. "They've just arrived in Milan. He said that Poppy's going down to visit in a few days, and watch the first show at the San Siro. Of course, he sends his love."

Harry glanced at her. "I'm sure those aren't the words that he used."

"I'll get the letter for you to read later," she told him, shrugging slightly.

Harry was about to respond when the Fat Lady's portrait swung open and a group of students tumbled in. He spotted the Weasley twins and the girls from the Quidditch team talking excitedly among themselves.

"Oi, Hermione," Fred Weasley said, getting the witch's attention; "you missed it."

"Missed what?"

"Angie's Patronus. It was amazing!"

Harry reasoned that Hermione was a far better actress than he first thought. Though, he had to hand it to her, because she'd managed to hide her true feelings from him for goodness only knew how long. But he'd learned to read her lately, and he now knew _so much_.

She started to worry her lip once she'd conveyed the necessary excitement and congratulated Angelina enthusiastically. Truthfully, it was entirely distracting as he watched her in his periphery. He had half a mind to kiss her right there and then.

"Stop that," he said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes. "It's just a spell, Hermione."

She huffed. "I just don't understand why I can't get it," she said, allowing her frustration to get the better of her. "I know I'm doing it right. I've practiced the wand movement, and I know I'm saying the incantation right. Why isn't it working?"

Harry sighed. "Maybe that's the problem," he finally said.

"What?"

"I think I might know what's wrong," he began, starting off cautiously. "But you have to promise not to hurt me if you don't like what I'm about to say. You can be awfully scary sometimes, and I'm terrified of you."

Hermione frowned, as she shifted in her seat to give him her full attention. "Harry?"

"Promise," he demanded.

She sighed dramatically "Fine, I promise."

Harry looked her in the eye. "Based on our readings, we know that the Patronus Charm is, umm, esoteric magic, right?"

She nodded, internally pleased that he remembered the term. Though, she had to be the first to acknowledge that Harry's performance in the classroom had improved substantially, given that Hermione Granger was up to offering him greater incentives than just an Outstanding.

"Which essentially means that the Patronus Charm is an emotional, somewhat passionate spell, right? So it isn't something that can be mastered out of a book, Hermione. You approach most academic things like this intellectually, logically, and not emotionally. This is where I think the problem is."

Hermione just stared at him, processing his words as best she could without feeling like her boyfriend just told her that she was an emotionless robot.

"My guess is that you're looking at the Charm as you would any other, but this isn't a Charm that _does_ something, so you can't think of it like that. It requires that you think of your happiest memory for a reason, because it's more of an expression, isn't it? The Patronus is an _expression_ of your happiness, your joy and your love."

Hermione dropped her gaze, suddenly reading a little too much into his words. "Are you mad at me?"

Harry sputtered. "What? Why on earth would you think that?"

She looked at him through her lashes. "Well, if the Patronus is an expression of my _feelings_ , then surely I'm not feeling very much... For you."

Harry's eyes bulged. "What? No! Hermione, that is so not what I'm saying, and I know you know that," he hurried, needing her to know. "I'm not hurt or angry or anything, okay? The Patronus Charm is some of the most difficult magic known to the Wizarding World. I also had trouble with it in the beginning."

She couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

"And, if anything, I think that the main problem is that you have _too many_ happy memories right now," he said, his tone lighter, somewhat airy. "I mean, you're with me, so it _must_ be difficult for you to pick a specific one to use, right?"

Despite her whirlwind of thoughts, Hermione smiled at him. "This ego of yours is totally out of control."

"You chose me, Hermione; what did you expect?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I love you, you know that?"

"I love you too," he said easily. They _were_ words he said every single day, so of course they were easy.

"Good," she said sweetly; "now get to work."

Harry dipped his - her - quill into his ink and proceeded to continue editing his Charms essay. He glanced at her a few times, watching as she continually worried her bottom lip. He could tell that she was thinking about something _different_ now, and he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing. He would have to talk to her about it when they were alone next, which, thankfully, arrived later that night.

Hermione was squeezed in between Harry and the back of the couch opposite the fireplace, as the two of them lay together in the Gryffindor Common Room well after curfew. Everyone else had gone to bed and, as far as their roommates were concerned; both Harry and Hermione were safely tucked away as well.

"Tell me something good," Hermione said, resting her head on his chest.

"Something good... hmm, let's see," he said thoughtfully. "Specifically about the Patronus Charm?"

"If you want to."

He took a breath, trying to decide what about his life could be considered _good_. "Well, as you know, for a long time, my memory associated with the Charm, though not entirely _happy_ , was about my parents," he explained. "Just the thought of them; the hope of them... it was my _happiest_ memory. How sad is that?"

"It's not sad," she assured him, though she was struggling to figure out how this could be 'something good.'

"It's all right, Hermione," he said softly, absently placing a kiss on the top of her head. "What I'm trying to tell you is that, when I produce my Patronus these days; I don't think of my parents."

"Oh?"

"I think of you."

Hermione's breath caught.

"I think of the first time we went to the Room of Requirement when we got back after our Break." He laughed when she gave him an accosted look. "Not because of what we did - which was amazing, by the way - but because of what it _meant_."

Hermione thought back to the first time they'd disappeared into the Room of Requirement on their own. The first week back had been trying, to say the least, and the two of them had needed some respite; some form of peace. It took the rest of the school butting into their business to get Ron to start defending them, until he finally accepted that his two best friends were in love and nothing was going to change that.

Not even Professor Umbridge, who'd turned her nose up at the news. What kind of Professor even commented on the romantic lives of her students anyway? Even Professor McGonagall hadn't said anything, though she did look mightily smug about something.

So they'd gone to recuperate, and remind themselves that they were in it, _together_. They'd talked for hours, and kissed for longer. Truly, it was one of Harry's favourite days, second only to the entire Christmas Break he'd spent with Hermione and her parents.

"What did it mean, Harry?" she asked softly, breaking into the faraway look in his eyes.

"It suddenly wasn't just about the future that's expected of me, or the past that's haunted me. It was about the present; _my_ present, with you." Harry kissed the top of her head again, enjoying the action a little too much. "I was surprised by it, and then not surprised at the same time," he said. "Does that make sense?"

"Normally, no," she said, laughing lightly. "But I know you, and I understand you."

"I love you, Hermione," he said seriously. Then he chuckled. "Is that 'something good' enough for you?"

She took a breath, and sat up slightly so she could look at his face. "You know, during that truly embarrassing talk we had just before we left; my mum warned me about you," she let him know.

"What about me?" he asked innocently.

She breathed out, tickling his skin. "You're so all-consuming."

Harry grinned at her. "Can't think about anything but me, huh?"

"It's definitely a problem," she confessed. "This is my O.W.L. year, Mr Potter, and all I ever really want to do is spend my time with only you."

Hermione reached up to kiss him, her fingers trailing along the hem of his t-shirt, up his chest, shoulders and neck, before finally finding their way into his hair. She eventually rolled onto him, both their legs and tongues tangling in the heat of their kiss.

Harry's own hands snuck under her top, his fingers caressing the skin of her back as he clutched her closer to him. "Maybe you need a new memory," he murmured against her lips. "Something I can help you with."

She giggled, temporarily forgetting what they were even talking about. Then she remembered, and she lifted her head to look into his perfect green eyes. Eyes that _owned_ her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Hermione didn't respond. She rather just kissed him, taking a page out of Harry's book, and used her actions instead of her words. Really, she wanted to thank him for being so honest with her, and encouraging of her, and making sure that she knew he believed in her.

Because the breakthrough, thankfully, happened a few days later.

* * *

She practically tackled him to the ground.

Hermione Granger caught the raven-haired wizard completely unawares when she threw herself at him and they both fell onto the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. She was grinning madly and, despite the fact that he hadn't managed to look at her face before he was _attacked_ ; Harry just _knew_ what had happened.

"Well, hello to you too," Harry said through his own laughter, just managing to ignore the fact that they weren't actually alone in the room.

Hermione lifted her head to look at him, her own face completely red from her own excitement and embarrassment. "I finally did it," she said unnecessarily. "I know what it is." She suddenly sat up, pulling him up as well so that she was sitting on his right side.

Harry presented her with his left arm, where his watch was hidden by the sleeve of his school shirt. For a moment, they both went still, each of them staring at his sleeve.

"It's not a doe," she suddenly said, needing him to know.

Harry looked at her. "Okay, Hermione."

She took a deep breath before she moved his sleeve out of the way so they could look at the face together. Only, it was still blank. "Well, that was a bit anticlimactic," she said.

Harry frowned. "That's odd," he agreed. "Did you check _your_ watch?"

"My watch is switched to your Patronus," she reminded him, looking thoughtful for a moment, before she took his watch off his wrist and studied it closely. "Do you think it's malfunctioning?"

Harry shook his head. " _Can_ magic malfunction?"

"It can definitely go awry if the Runes aren't scribed properly," she said, dropping into her academic tone of voice. "But I know for a fact that it works because when you press the switch; it displays your Patronus." As she said it, she switched the watch's face and Harry's Stag came into view.

Even after seeing it so many times in person and on her own watch, it still amazed her. Hermione pressed the switch again, expecting another blank face but that was not what she received. The Stag transformed into an entirely different animal.

"Oh."

Harry blinked. "Is that...?"

Hermione blushed. "It is."

"You did it, Hermione," he said happily, a smile breaking out on his face. "Although, I'm not entirely sure what that animal is exactly."

She couldn't help her laugh. "It's an otter, Harry."

"An otter, you say?" he asked, smirking slightly. "For the future Mrs P _otter_."

Hermione just shook her head, though she did blush. "You are so weird."

He immediately kissed her cheek. "I'm so proud of you," he said seriously. Then, switching topics quite suddenly, he asked: "Do you want to go for a walk?"

She stiffened. "Didn't it rain earlier?"

He pretended as if he didn't hear her. As much as she hated the wet and the cold; she usually couldn't say no whenever he brought out his perfect eyes and cute face, and asked her to take a walk with him. "Go and get ready," he said simply. "Meet me back here in five minutes."

Hermione just rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she stood up and started towards her dormitory. "Sunshine kid just takes advantage of the fact that I love him."

Harry couldn't help his grin as he watched her disappear up the stairs. Once she was out of sight, Harry looked at his watch again. The face was no longer blank. He'd told her that it would remain that way until they learned of her form, and he honestly couldn't be more proud of her.

An otter.

Who would have guessed?

"I'm ready."

Harry looked up to spy Hermione Granger dressed unnecessarily warmly, in her raincoat, beanie, scarf and gloves. He even chuckled at the sight of her. "Did you run or something? I said five minutes," he said, sounding amused. "I haven't even fetched my own coat."

"Hurry up."

Harry couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he stood up and went to retrieve his own coat. She was probably in such a rush because she wanted to get him alone somewhere and use those magic hands on him. He really did know her a little too well.

As soon as he returned to the Common Room, Hermione led the way out and away from the Tower. They walked hand-in-hand, in mutual silence as they made their way towards the Entrance Hall of the Castle.

Harry brought them to a stop just as they approached the open doors. He hadn't been out to visit his large rock at the Black Lake in quite some time and, truly, he had Hermione to thank for that. He had her parents to thank for that as well. They made him feel like he was a part of the family. They _cared_ about him, and Harry no longer felt like he had nobody.

As long as he had her.

"Why, why, why is it so damn cold?" she said, huffing in annoyance. "It isn't even winter anymore."

Harry laughed lightly. "It's Scotland, Hermione; when isn't it winter?"

Hermione shivered.

"Jeez, Hermione, didn't anyone tell you that it's cold outside?"

She grinned at him, sighing softly when he tightened the scarf around her neck and then kissed her forehead. "What would I do without you?"

"Possibly freeze to death," he said, laughing lightly. "Or stay completely warm inside. It's a toss-up, really."

"I must really love you or something."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, his heart swelling with unbridled emotion. "We're going to be okay," he said softly. "We always will."

Hermione reached up to kiss him quickly, and then she turned and started through the front doors. She was forced to stop when Harry grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her back. "What's wrong?" she asked, looking back at him curiously.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just, well, you know, I - " he hesitated.

"What is it, Harry?"

He tugged on her hand until the front of her body was touching him, practically pressed against his chest. "I thought, you know, that I should tell you that it's cold outside before you head out with your boyfriend, who seems determined to make sure that you freeze to death," he said, touching her hair and making her shiver once more, though not from the cold this time.

She blinked, before her face broke out into a grin. "Oh."

Harry met her gaze and dropped a kiss to the corner of her perfect mouth. "Pretty girl," he said seriously; "it's cold outside."

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
